Intervention: A TwiKinkFest Entry in Five Parts
by AllTheOtherNamesAreUsed
Summary: Carlisle has buried himself with work, but when the family stages an intervention exploring his darkest fantasies, he will learn something important about himself, and which fantasy he needs to be a reality. TwiKinkFest. Carlisle/All. AU. HEED WARNINGS!
1. The Van

**Intervention: A TwiKinkFest Entry in Five Parts**

_AN: Thanks to the anon prompter and to the TwiKinkFest staff. I read this and knew I had to write it…and then it grew and grew. I hope the prompter doesn't mind that I inserted the tiniest bit of plot arc, and that it turned into a multi-chapter short. Thanks also to StormDragonfly, my intrepid beta for this project, whose own lemons are truly inspirational. Thanks to ZoyaZalan who first taught me the joys of poly Cullens, and finally to giselle-lx, whose insightful rants provided some inspiration for this story.**  
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_**1. TwiKinkFest Prompt:** "The playful, scheming Cullens (led by Esme) plot to kidnap overworked, overstressed uptight Carlisle and restrain him for forced-vacation of debauchery. Each take turns playing/pleasuring him starting w Esme & ending with Edward. Others can work in pairs or groups, just give him a show, no limits. But significant sex with Edward is solo and the last one."_

_**2. Rating:** Rated: M/MA/NC-17 Carlisle/everyone else (except Renesmee). Vampy and very AU._

_**3. Content Warnings:** If you got here because you have me author-alerted out of appreciation for my as yet sex-free canon fics, **PLEASE** think twice before reading this. I'm scared enough to post it, and would really rather not have a bunch of my loyal readers lambasting me in reviews. Please, if it's not your thing (and I **know** for many of you it won't be), please just move along…I promise new, sweet, angsty chapters of Intermezzo and Prelude very soon. I did this in part because sex will be entering the Prelude universe soon, and I was terrified. This was a good way to experiment, and after the kinky shit in this story, a straight up love scene should be easy. This is not my usual Carlisle, but they share some common personal history, and perhaps even one fantasy…_

_If you got here because of the TwiKinkFest, or are a regular reader of mine and like this sort of thing, welcome to Intervention, aka Kinkapalooza! My mind went in so many directions from this prompt that I ended up writing it all, in multiple chapters. Carlisle will be having sex with everyone (except Renesmee; this AU does not include her). So get past that first._

_This story is an intervention, but after the initial abduction, it is basically is about Carlisle being allowed to explore his darkest, most forbidden fantasies in a safe environment. No one is humiliated, though dominance is exerted in places._

_Warnings and characters involved will be posted at the top of each chapter, but here's the comprehensive list: Het loving D/s BDSM (no humiliation), bondage, anonymous(ish) poly sex with bondage, rimming, het Daddy kink, deep throating, het anal, poly slash, blood kink, vampy/instinct/dominance sex, slash, and romance._

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><p><strong><em>Chapter 1. The Van<em>**

_Carlisle x Esme; D/s BDSM (no humiliation), bondage_

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><p>He was late. He was always late leaving the hospital these days, but tonight he was <em>very<em> late. Between the auditors, and the change over to electronic patient files, and the fact that one of the new nurses was not working out, Carlisle was simply balancing too many responsibilities at the hospital. Dr. Gerandy was a fine doctor, but as an administrator, he was rather disorganized. Carlisle had been forced to take over as the liaison to the auditors, pulling together documentation they needed. Since he refused to neglect his patients, that work had to be done when he was officially off-duty, when he should be keeping up on the medical literature or spending time with his family.

The truth was, he'd been busy at work since before Edward's wedding. Long before. He had taken the week of the ceremony off to help, but during the months of the engagement, and the three months since the wedding, Carlisle had been bombarded with a growing number of projects and patients. It had just felt impossible to say 'no', and he'd felt increasingly caught up in the minutia of the hospital. This weekend would be good: three days off in a row…plenty of time to get caught up on his reading and take a quick hunting trip in the mountains with his family… Maybe review the documentation on the new patient record software to ease with the implementation…

Carlisle balanced his briefcase and a box of medical journals in one hand as he pushed the hospital door open. He walked out to the parking lot under the streetlamp where he always parked, to find his Mercedes missing. Startled, he spun around, searching the parking lot. In a dark corner, a familiar figure stood by a large black van.

He smiled and walked toward her, noticing the stiletto boots and slim trench coat protecting her from the light drizzle.

"Esme, darling, what are you doing here?" He bent down to kiss her cheek. "And where's my car?"

"Rosalie wanted to have a look at the Mercedes, so I'm here to pick you up."

"Oh, I'm sorry I'm so late…I hope you haven't been waiting outside here the whole time. Dr. Gerandy called a staff meeting that went for hours, and I had to pull the medical records for the auditors by hand because the computer records haven't been fully implemented yet. That new nurse, Holly, nearly killed a patient today because she almost gave the meds for bed 2 to the patient in bed 6…I barely caught her in time…"

"Carlisle, slow down," Esme said gently. "You have three days to unwind, now."

"I know; I'm relieved I'll finally have some time to catch up on the literature. I haven't been able to read any journal articles for weeks. I'm bringing them home," he said, lifting the box briefly. Esme looked disapproving. "But I promise, I won't spend all of my time reading…Esme, is everything okay?"

Her eyes softened a bit. "Yes, of course. I need a proper kiss, though."

Carlisle grinned, set the box and briefcase on the ground, and wrapped his arms around his wife's waist, kissing her softly. He felt Esme's arms wrap around his neck; her fingers coiled through his hair and she deepened the kiss. The slow, intoxicating gliding of tongues mesmerized Carlisle. How long had it been since they'd taken the time to kiss like this? Carlisle allowed himself to get lost in it, savoring the gentle tickle of Esme's fingers as she trailed them down his neck, over his shoulders, down his arms… Carlisle groaned into the kiss, but then abruptly Esme's mouth was gone, he heard the click of handcuffs closing over his wrists and a black leather bag descended over his head.

"Don't struggle," came Esme's whisper through the bag, right at his ear, and he stilled his resistance to the strong, hard body grasping him from behind; from the scent, and Esme's calm, he could tell it was a family member…probably Edward or Jasper, but the strong scent of leather made it hard to tell. He heard the van door open, and he was shoved backward, roughly moved to the floor of the van, and then repositioned onto something softer.

"Secure him," Esme commanded, and he felt his hands being raised over his head, and heard the sound of metal meeting metal. He explored with his fingers as rough hands pulled at his ankles, stretching him out, fastening bindings around his ankles and securing him to the floor. He found that his handcuffs had been hooked to a metal bar extruding vertically from the floor of the van. It smelled of titanium, and he knew what that meant.

He heard a tearing sound and the rumble of the van starting, and suddenly the bag was off his head, a large piece of duct tape was over his mouth, and Esme was standing over him, one stiletto-clad foot on either side of his waist. She quirked an eyebrow at him, and his cock twitched.

How many times, over their ninety years together, had he opened his eyes to see her looming over his restrained body? And it never ceased to thrill him. He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of his body reacting to her dominance.

They both loved this. For Esme, exerting control had become a way to heal... to exorcise her past. She used her control to coax pleasure from his mind and body, in stark contrast to the control that had been exerted against her during her human life.

For Carlisle, whose entire life was defined by his ability to control, relinquishing it was cathartic. He found it humbling to expose his impervious skin to stings and blows. It was almost spiritual: to strike the body to clear the mind. To give control to someone wholly trusted, wholly loved: to Esme. He did not react to the floggings like the monks of old, who mortified the flesh to sublimate sex. He entered a sort of trance, a meditative state, and when he was done, he was always very, _very_ ready for sex. Focused sex. Sex in which his thoughts weren't scattered like light into a dozen refracted colors and subjects. Sex in which his only white hot thought was her, and whatever she was doing to him. Even now, just _looking_ at her like this, arousal was coiling around his spine, coursing through his veins; it had been far too long since he felt this way. She knew; she always knew.

Ironically, it had been Edward who had first convinced him to say something. When Carlisle had been single and virginal, he'd been able to keep the fantasies at bay. But once he'd become married and sexually active, his mind returned over and over to things he'd seen in Volterra: chains, naked bodies, cries of pleasure… Finally, when they were hunting together one evening while Esme worked at home, Edward had grown exasperated with the thoughts.

"Just ask her, Carlisle! Just ask her and be done with it," he'd said.

"I could never… I don't… I…" Carlisle had been horrified. He didn't _want_ to want to be tied up. It was unnatural. A source of shame. "Esme is everything I need," Carlisle had finally blurted out.

"No, she's not. And you won't even let her try to be, which is very unfair of you, I think. Just tell her what you like."

"I just can't…"

"Why not?" he'd demanded. "It's not like you want to tie _her_ up."

Esme, it turned out, was surprisingly amenable to the idea.

Still, their first attempts had been disastrous. Esme had tried to tie him to her bed with ropes. It was the first bed he'd ever gotten her, a cherry-wood four-poster bed with filmy white curtains. In her first months with him, she'd lain on that bed for hours, depressed and mourning. He'd watched her through the sheer curtains, longing to go to her, comfort her, drape her in the petals of the flowers he brought her every few days… love her. Being tied to that bed had been one of the sexiest things he'd ever felt, but it had gone terribly wrong. Despite his submissive mind frame, he'd been so aroused that when he finally came, he'd pulled the bed apart with his thrashing. The bed had collapsed in on itself as his mind swam through bliss, the wood falling to the floor with a thud and the filmy curtains drifting down and tangling in their arms and legs. They'd laughed for five solid minutes, and couldn't seriously attempt any bondage again for months. He still mourned that bed…

Eventually Esme got better at restraining him. They'd started with thick chains, like the ones the Volturi used. They were effective, but cumbersome, and not conducive to changing positions. A natural at physics as it applied to architecture, support and balancing forces, she learned the subtle art of removing his leverage, allowing her to immobilize him with even mundane objects if she used enough of them.

But the real fun had begun once Rosalie joined the family. She had a way with metallurgy, and though she was shocked at first, she didn't have a problem with a _man_ being tied down and fucked. She began experimenting and soon developed an alloy of titanium that was extremely strong, not brittle, and easily molded into cuffs, bolts, chains, whatever they might need. Esme, ever a creative mind, had found surprising uses for it. The alluring smell of that alloy was thickly present in the air of the van, causing Carlisle to quiver in anticipation.

He opened his eyes again to find Esme watching his reaction: the expressions that were no doubt dancing across his face, the way his cock was straining against his work pants. She slowly began playing with the belt of her coat.

"You've been very bad lately, Carlisle," she said softly as the van began to move. "Working too late; ignoring your family. For months it seems your mind has been elsewhere. You've been consumed with office politics, stressing over things that don't matter, avoiding things that do. I'm staging an intervention."

She slowly untied her belt and shed her coat. Carlisle groaned at what was revealed beneath: the black stiletto boots extended from very pointed toes to high on her perfect thigh. A black leather bustier accentuated her hourglass figure, flaring at her hips and breasts, and leaving only inches of champagne skin exposed between the bustier and the tops of the boots. Carlisle wanted to explore that small stretch of skin: drag his fingers from the outer curve of her hips, across the front of her thighs to meet at the neatly trimmed mound of auburn curls exposed in the center, but when he reached for her, metal clanged, and he remembered his bindings.

Esme clucked her disapproval. "They are titanium alloy. It all is, including the reinforcement on the van's frame. After all," she whispered suggestively, "we wouldn't want you tearing it apart while we're barreling down the highway at 120 mph…could prove embarrassing." Carlisle groaned and writhed, realizing the extent of her preparations. "You shouldn't be able to get out of them, Carlisle. But then, you don't want to, do you? You don't want to damage your bindings?" He shook his head and groaned. No, he was very happy where he was. He knew she was right; he'd let unimportant things take over his life again. And he knew that Esme could refocus his attention. He needed her. He always did.

"This weekend you will not be in control. You will submit to me, to my desires for you. Do you agree?" Carlisle groaned and nodded, a heat growing in his gaze. "You will also submit to anyone I send to you. You will play along with any scenario presented to you, no matter how tawdry or forbidden. Do you agree?"

_God, yes!_ Carlisle nodded emphatically.

"And you will not, under any circumstances, think about the contents of your briefcase, that box you were carrying, or politics at the hospital. You are mine this weekend, and I will have your full attention. Do you agree?"

Carlisle whimpered and nodded furiously. Anything she wanted, so long as she touched him soon. He was aching for her as he looked up at his beautiful, confident, demanding wife. She smiled at him.

"Good boy. Now, I think you are wearing far too many clothes." She bent her knees, squatting over him as she removed the tape and loosened his tie. Her knees were splayed wide, and Carlisle could see her glistening folds mere inches above his very proper button-down shirt: the juxtaposition of her black leather and naked sex next to his upstanding work clothes was deliciously decadent. The scent of her arousal was intoxicating and he growled his approval. His eyes rolled back, and that was when he noticed what was hanging neatly from the walls of the van: rows and rows of floggers, crops, whips, chains, paddles, canes, metal rebar… and there were drawers…god only knew what was in the drawers.

Carlisle's gaze returned to Esme. She smirked as she watched him take in the tools on the walls. "I told you I'd been working on some new remodeling projects," she said, quirking an eyebrow.

"I _really_ like what you've done with the place," Carlisle responded breathily, and Esme laughed as she tore his clothes and shoes away, dumping them into a bin in the corner. She stood and retrieved a red suede flogger from the wall, dragging it slowly up his leg, over his cock, and across his chest. He writhed in pleasure.

"We have a long drive before we reach our destination, and I think perhaps you need some time to focus your mind before we arrive." She leaned over and gently caressed his cheek. Then her fingers raked through his hair, pulling it slightly. Their eyes met and in both cases, gold was shifting to black. "Are you going to be good?'

"Yes, Esme," he said steadily, his voice taking on the familiar submissive tone.

She moved to the restraints on his ankles and unlatched the carabiners that were securing him to the floor. The carabiners were slightly thicker than those commercially available for rock climbing: stronger, and able to support more weight. However, they had the same quick release and secure latch system, allowing Esme to quickly alter his positions. Esme often teasingly referred to them as his cufflinks in public, trying to embarrass him. They'd been using a system of anchors, cuffs and carabiners for years.

"On your knees."

His arms still fastened together overhead, Carlisle rolled onto his stomach and tucked his knees under him, noticing that D-bolts ran up the entire length of the mat. Named for it's 'D' shape, the flat side of the 'D' mounted flush with the floor, resulting in a half-circular loop protruding from the floor, perfect to link to a carabiner. All the D-bolts ensured that Esme would be able to fasten his leather and metal ankle restraints wherever she wanted. It was ingenious, and his cock twitched at the possibilities as she reconnected the carabiners, securing him in position. The pole, too, had D-bolts running up its length. Between all the ways she could secure him, and all the tools on the walls, the possibilities were endless. A few hours would not be enough in his new favorite vehicle.

Carlisle heard a faint chuckle from the front of the van, and realized that Edward must be driving; he then felt the sting of a riding crop on his hip. He looked over his shoulder at Esme, who had the flogger in one hand and a crop in the other.

"I _will_ have your attention, Carlisle. I intend to make this pleasurable, but if you will not focus…"

"You have my attention, Esme," he said as he arched his back and raised his ass for her. "I'm yours."

"Good. Now count. You shouldn't need a word unless it's a number."

He nodded and put his head down, heard the swish of the suede in the air, and then felt the strands wrap around his ass like a caress.

"One..."

An hour later, he was standing with his ankles bound to the D-bolts nearest the pole and his hands bound close to the floor. He was doubled over at the waist; each slap of the metal cane seemed to travel straight through his balls, and his mind was blissfully, blissfully blank. His cock dripped fluid onto his belly and chest. Esme had established a beautiful rhythm: whoosh, clang, grunt, count. It was almost musical. She had built him up to it gently, lovingly, as she always did. First the arousing tickle and tease of the flogger, then the slap of the paddle, the sensuous tingle of the whip, and the sting of the metal cables and rebar canes. She always escalated slowly, letting his skin grow acclimated to one touch before advancing to the next. She never hurt him. The only thing that would truly cause pain was a bite, which was a rare, sought-after pleasure. The growing intensity of sensation was centering. By the time Esme was finished with a session, Carlisle's mind was always clear and focused intensely on her, just as his body was aching for hers: he was ready to feel, to adore, to love, and _absolutely _ready to fuck. The cane snapped, and Esme discarded it with the other broken paddles, canes and cables littering the floor. She ran her hand over Carlisle's ass, grazing his balls, and he moaned thickly.

"So responsive. You're ready, I think." She unfastened his ankles. "On your back." Carlisle carefully scooted his feet back until he could get to his knees, and then rotated back to his original position. Esme secured his ankles and stood over him again, dragging the tip of a riding crop slowly over his flesh. His cock bobbed when the crop approached his lower belly.

"Very nice," Esme cooed. "But I'm having some trouble concentrating. Before we do anything more with your lovely cock, I need some relief." She fell to her knees, straddling his face. "I require your mouth, Carlisle."

Carlisle barely got the "yes, Esme" out before he covered her with his mouth. His tongue ran up and down her dripping folds, circled her clit, and when a fresh pulse of juices flowed from her core, he groaned and bucked, only to feel the sting of the crop on his hip.

"This is not your moment, Carlisle." She stood, and Carlisle feared she would stop their game, but she reached into a drawer and pulled out very short, very thick, black rubber tiebacks with metal hooks on each end. "If you cannot hold still yourself, I shall have to _ensure_ that you stay still."

He swallowed thickly as he watched her work to immobilize him. It was a sensuous experience. She took each strap, hooked one end on a D-bolt, stretched it across his body so tightly that the strap was nearly at the extent of its elasticity, and then she hooked it to a D-bolt on the other side of the mat. Each strap added a tight line across his body, another stripe of his stone flesh she claimed control over. And he loved giving her this: holding completely still for her as she claimed his control, his body, inch by inch. Soon, each D-bolt anchored several straps, crisscrossing his body. Scores of straps ran across his chest, his belly, his hips, his legs, pressing his entire frame deep into the mat. His cock alone jutted upward, flanked by black straps: there was no way he could thrust now. Only his head and his arms were offered limited movement. His hands were still attached to the pole overhead with an inch or two of play in his bindings. Where they had been his point of bondage earlier, now they were his one point of relative freedom. It almost felt dangerous, that one inch of play. Carlisle was glad, however, that he could raise his head and look down his body, seeing the lone monolith of his cock rising straight out of a sea of black restraints. The sight was sexy as hell, and could only be improved by the presence of Esme's gracious curves.

Esme was also admiring her work. "Very pretty," she said, gently dragging the end of the crop up his shaft as he moaned. "You are completely at my mercy now," she added with a small smirk.

"I am ever at your mercy, Esme," Carlisle replied, but he knew this was different. She rarely immobilized him so completely. She hovered just out of reach, taking her time, teasing him in his helplessness. And he ached for her, more and more as he watched her sexily pace, bending over to check that his hands were secure, and then dragging her fingers over the row of D-bolts, grazing the connections of all those straps. He could tell she was pleased with her design, and the possibilities it afforded. She was proud, and confident, and he loved seeing her like this…loved being this for her.

"Now, where were we? Oh yes, your tongue was on my clit." She straddled his face again, holding onto the bar, and was quickly writhing and grinding into him as he sucked her furiously. He gave her all his attention. All sixteen muscles of his tongue were devoted to her pleasure as he relished the sweet and tangy taste of her honey and felt the smooth skin of her folds. His eyes feasted on her gyrating body, and he was joyously drowning in the aroma of her intense arousal. He savored the symphony of her raspy groans, breathy gasps, and the creak of her leather boots as she rocked over him. It was magnificent to feel his senses all filled with just her… just his Esme… his beautiful, sensuous, glorious…

Esme tensed, and Carlisle thrust his tongue into her depths, growling as he felt her clench and scream her release. She clung to the bar, panting as Carlisle gently licked her clean, feeding his appetite for her. Finally she stood, shuffled her feet back until they were on either side of his hips, and looked down at his leaking cock. "Carlisle, you naughty boy. You've dripped so much, I don't think I need to get you any more wet…I could just slip over you…" He watched raptly as she lowered herself onto his cock, still balancing on those stiletto boots, Carlisle's new favorite shoes.

"Oh fuck, Esme!" he cried out, watching as he slid into her, and feeling the searing, tight, squeeze of her flesh on his own… so hot, so slick, so, _so_ right. The handcuffs rattled as he strained to thrust and buck, but his arms were stretched too tight. He had no leverage, and the straps held him firmly in place. The sound focused him, though. He willed himself to be submissive, to hold his arms as still as the rest of his body, and to give himself over to Esme. He was hers absolutely: body, mind and soul.

Esme slowly, torturously raised herself almost completely off him, and then sunk slowly back down until she was sitting on straps covering his pelvis. She rested her hands on her knees and started a slow rhythm: up and down, push and pull, in and out, stronger and stronger. Carlisle could only feel her hot slick core sliding along his shaft. Every other touch on his body was a restraint. He was forced to let her set the pace; it felt _magnificent._

She teased him, slowing as his breathing grew heavier, taking him to the edge and then pulling him back. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so aroused for so long. It was exquisite, exquisite torture, and just when he thought he might actually die from it, Esme tightened around him and began moving faster. The heat at the base of his spine intensified, and he had trouble keeping his eyes open, torn between wanting to just _feel_ what she was doing to him and watching her sexy body as she raised and lowered it over his cock. He was glad he'd kept his eyes open when she trailed a finger slowly, sexily from her knee to her clit. He nearly came as she started making slow circles with her finger, throwing her head back, her breasts nearly leaving the confines of black leather. She sped her pace, both of her finger and the rocking of her body onto his. Faster and faster she circled and thrust as their breathing intensified, until finally with a loud cry, she clenched around him, and it was too much. He growled and shrieked his release. Stars splayed across his vision, and he could hear Esme coming, but it sounded muffled as his vision was completely encompassed with light. He was floating, and for a while, all he knew was the sound of his own gasping breaths.


	2. The Dungeon

**Chapter 2. The Dungeon**

_AN: Thank you all for the amazing response to Chapter 1. We pick up just where we left off…_

_Carlisle_ _x_ _?;_ _Anonymous(ish)_ _Poly_ _D/s_ _BDSM_ _(no_ _humiliation),_ _bondage,_ _ass_ _play,_ _toys,_ _anal,_ _rimming,_ _yoga_______________________________

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><p>Carlisle's awareness of his surroundings came slowly into focus, like a camera lens that had been trained on the heavens, but could now clearly make out the details around him. Esme was kneeling beside him, unfastening all the straps. She removed the handcuffs last, gently massaging his wrists as he watched her beautiful face.<p>

"Esme, that was, amazing! That was…"

"Only the warm up," she finished. She gave him a light kiss, quickly withdrawing before he could deepen it. "We've arrived, and you're ready. Do you trust me?"

Carlisle was startled by the question. "With everything I am."

She gave him just a hint of her radiant smile and nodded. "Stand up." Esme took his hands, helped him to his feet, and reached behind her to open a drawer holding more restraint cuffs, like those still on his ankles. So it was to be more bondage; Carlisle didn't have a problem with that. Esme fastened a new cuff to each wrist, hooking them together with carabiners, effectively binding his arms together. She checked the restraints on his ankles for wear, and then picked up the black leather bag that he'd worn over his head at the beginning of the trip.

"When they take this off you, remember what you've agreed to: you will submit to anyone sent to you, and you will play along with any scenario presented to you. Do you understand?"

Carlisle nodded. "Yes," he added, to be sure Esme understood his willingness.

"Good. I love you." She gave him a light, quick kiss, and then the dark of the leather bag obscured his vision.

_I love you, too._

He was led — naked, bound, and blind — out of the back of the van, across a snow-covered expanse, and into a building he did not know.

"Take him and bind him," Esme said to someone. "I'll be there shortly."

He heard the rustle of cloth and the click of stiletto heels, and felt someone take hold of his wrist bindings to lead him. "There are stairs," came a whisper, and he didn't recognize the voice, though it smelled like Alice. He slowed to feel for the first one, and then he began his decent. It was cold, and damp. Two flights down, they entered a room where sound echoed. There was a lot of rustling here…and the sound of many feet, some clicking like Esme's and Alice's, some heavier sounding. He was stopped, and his wrist restraints were separated, and each connected to what felt like slack chains. His feet were moved a yard apart, and his ankle restraints were attached to bolts in the floor. Carlisle couldn't help feeling that this scenario was somehow familiar. And then he heard a crank, and wheels turning, and he felt his arms being raised as the chains mounted from above were shortened. He'd only heard that sound once before, and it sent a thrill up his spine…

When he lived in Volterra, Aro had tried to 'cure' him of two behaviors the Brothers had deemed 'eccentric': his resistance to feeding from humans, and his resistance to partaking in sex. As such, Carlisle had been forced to watch two types of orgies. The first was a feeding frenzy, sacrificing dozens of innocent humans in a spectacle of vampiric gluttony. It had not had the desired effect.

The second was a sexual frenzy. The Brothers had long ago instituted a policy that no member of the Guard could have a bond with another vampire that was stronger than the bond they held with the Brothers... none came before the Volturi Brotherhood. If a Guard member found a mate, they were invariably asked to leave. In order to gratify the Guard's sexual urges, mass sexual orgies took place routinely as the Brothers watched from a balcony to ensure that no two vampires paired off too frequently. Aro had made Carlisle watch from the balcony many times, trying to break him of his virginity. Those orgies took place in the dungeon, and new members of the Guard were shackled spread eagle, just as he was now, to witness and partake in the debauchery.

He'd first seen both these types of orgies when he was virginal and early in his struggle against the call of blood; at the time he'd found them both abhorrent. He _still_ found the feeding frenzy abhorrent, but the sexual orgies had become fodder for some of his darkest, most forbidden fantasies. Not just bondage; he and Esme had explored bondage thoroughly, and it had made them closer. What happened in those orgies had little to do with trust or intimacy. There was anonymity and sheer hedonism, and a vast amount of titillation. He'd watched new members seem to drown in pleasure…

And as if on cue, the bag was ripped from his head and he saw standing before him seven figures wearing the hooded robes of the Volturi Guard. The figure directly in front of him pushed her hood back slightly, revealing slicked-back blonde hair and red eyes. Carlisle had to shake off the impression that Jane was before him… a much taller, much more voluptuous Jane. And though he could tell on close inspection that she was wearing red contacts, the illusion was sufficient to be chilling and exciting. His cock, which had awakened at the sound of the chains being raised, was now thoroughly hard and straining toward the Guard members.

Rosalie whispered a speech straight from Carlisle's own memory: "There are no mated pairs in the Guard. Our closest loyalty is always to the Volturi Brotherhood. Here you will learn to give and receive pleasure from your fellow Guard members, so you may serve the Brothers free from distraction. Do you understand?"

Carlisle swallowed thickly and nodded.

Rosalie raised a mocking eyebrow, and Carlisle cursed himself, reciting the appropriate response from memory: "I will give and receive pleasure from the Guard; I will serve the Brothers loyally." _Forbidden,__ forbidden__… _he thought, shuddering. He would never truly swear an oath to the Brothers, but to be bound by their Guard and pleasured…

"Begin," said Rosalie. Rosalie and one of the other Guards dropped to their knees at each of his feet and began kissing and licking their way up his legs as Carlisle gasped and shivered with pleasure. The others walked around him. Delicate hands were all over him: his legs, his chest, his back, his ass. He groaned and felt himself twitch as the scents of the four women of the family mingled and wafted around him and their touches ignited his desire. He looked around the room and saw three other hooded figures standing several feet away, whispering amongst themselves. The tallest was palming himself lazily as he watched the women. All the Guard seemed to be naked except for their cloaks and boots. Carlisle shuddered with the delight of being voyeur and exhibitionist simultaneously.

A slick hand reached from behind and cupped his balls just as two tongues licked the sides of his cock from base to tip. Carlisle looked down to see that the two women on their knees before him were now facing each other, practically kissing with his cock nestled between their mouths. They moved up and down his shaft together, tongues dancing and lips kneading. As he stared, one reached out and touched the other's breast, and Carlisle groaned at the sight. They were becoming more excited, tweaking each other's nipples, palming each other's breasts, and as they did, their tongues laved his cock with more and more enthusiasm. Carlisle's breathing grew rough as he registered a third figure kneeling by his hip and raking her hand over his chest, dragging her nails across his nipples; her other hand continued to roll his balls from behind, intensifying the sensations on his weeping shaft. Another slick delicate hand traced the crack of his ass, circling his opening, and slowly, slowly pressed a finger in as he gasped and moaned in pleasure.

Carlisle closed his eyes and leaned heavily on the chains as he felt the exquisite friction along his shaft and channel. He was stretched and nibbled, licked, and spread, and he could feel the heat slowly coiling in his abdomen. He groaned, and he heard others groan. He felt a blunt, warm object press against his opening, and looked to where the men were still standing, stroking themselves as they watched him being breached. The object slipped past his guardian muscle and went deep, filling, stretching, and then vibrating. Carlisle lurched when the buzzing started and noticed a flurry of movement below him as a third Guard knelt in front of his cock, circling the tip with her tongue. His mind was becoming very focused on the sensations: the buzzing vibrator, the hands on his balls, chest and legs, the _three_ tongues working over his cock, all titillatingly cloaked beneath hoods, all focused on _his_ pleasure… he knew he couldn't last long. As the heat built, twisting and coiling at the base of his spine, surging through his veins like quicksilver, the audacity of the situation fell away until it seemed almost normal, almost natural to have three anonymous women focused on his cock while he was chained to the floor and ceiling. It was almost normal to have three tongues gliding along his shaft, swirling with wet heat… and then they tilted their faces in unison and three sets of ruby eyes met his.

"Oh god…oh _god_!" he cried as he registered the wholly forbidden scene, and his balls tightened. The woman at the end slid her mouth off his cock, cradling the tip with her tongue. She watched him serenely as he groaned and shuddered, and thick ribbons of release spilled across her face. As light coursed through his mind, he relished the view: white release and crimson irises. It was decadent, sinful, and oddly beautiful. He was entranced, stiff and unmoving. Then their eyes lowered and the spell was broken. He sagged limply from his chains, recovering, as he felt the figures moving around him, changing positions, and he gasped as he felt wet heat engulf his cock again, before he'd quite recovered from his last orgasm.

He looked down to see a single hooded figure taking his entire cock into her mouth, and then slowly drawing back. Two of the others stood on either side of the one kneeling, each taking a nipple into their mouths and biting lightly, teasingly. He moaned and felt himself awakening again. The fourth walked around to the front of him, holding up a paddle and quirking an eyebrow. His beautiful Esme, with disturbing ruby eyes, a cloak, and those same boots… and she wanted to paddle him some more. He could deny her nothing.

"Please…" he moaned, and felt the breeze from her cloak as she walked by him.

The blows started gently but quickly escalated. Each strike thrust the vibrator into his ass, and his cock into the Guard's willing mouth. He was sure… quite sure… he had never felt anything quite like it, and his body trembled as he struggled to hold back his orgasm. The groans of the others were mounting along with his own. On the tenth strike, he heard a loud cry of ecstasy and looked up just in time to see one of the male Guards spurt his release across the floor. That almost caused Carlisle to come, but held his breath, closed his eyes and focused his concentration. Hands twisted into his hair, tugging it and pulling his head back so they could lick up his chest and to his neck. Two more strikes fell, pushing his cock to the back of the Guard's throat. He was close; he was so close. He noticed the men approaching and reaching for the women on either side of him, tweaking their nipples and making them writhe up against him. It was delectable.

He felt the next blow, harder than the previous, and his mind's eye saw the dungeon before him, and the dungeon of his memory and fantasy all merging. Scenes that he'd witnessed centuries ago superimposed themselves on the experience, and he could almost believe that room was _full_ of chained vampires, all receiving attention as he was. There was stimulation everywhere: the smell of arousal, the licks and sucks and bites of the women, the grunts and groans of the men as they rutted behind the girls, the smack of the paddle. Even the stone walls and metal chains now seemed to stimulate him sexually. And it was too much. The next blow fell, and _he_ fell, crying his release again, thrusting deep into the eager mouth before him, who pulled him deep and swallowed and swallowed. He still didn't know who she was.

He sagged against the chains, eyes closed and was grateful when the vibrator was switched off. Fingers raked through his hair, comforting as he recovered, and then massaged his shoulders.

"His knees are buckling," he heard a whisper.

"Then by all means, let him kneel. It will give us another opening to play with." Carlisle realized then that they were all whispering to make it harder for him to distinguish their voices. He was having trouble recognizing the women already: their scents were all commingled on his body, making it hard for him to distinguish one from the other by scent. The hoods cast their face into shadow, and unless they were standing far enough away for him to see their relative heights he could only guess. At the moment, he could smell all his family members, and he found that he'd rather think of them as anonymous Guard members.

Carlisle's eyes flew open as the chains slackened just enough for his knees to hit the ground; he found himself eye level with the beautiful, glistening pussies of three women standing before him. He looked up and saw that the women's cloaks had been pushed behind their shoulders, exposing their bodies above the tops of their matching thigh-high stiletto boots. Their breasts were being pinched and teased by male Guards standing behind them; their faces were still in the shadow of their hoods, and the smells of their arousals were commingling and confusing. The girl in the middle was so close, he could almost lean forward and taste her. He suddenly regretted the bindings on his arms holding him upright.

"Look how excited she is after watching you get off," the male guard in the center whispered, sliding his hand down to stroke his companion's folds, making her moan wantonly. The sound went straight to Carlisle's balls, and he felt himself harden again as he groaned, rattling his chains slightly. He looked up and saw red eyes peering at him from over her shoulder, his face partially obscured by her hood.

"Oh, she's so wet… so slick. They all are," he added, and Carlisle looked and saw that hands were exploring each slick sex before him, sliding fingers between folds, circling clits as the hooded women arched into the touches, grinding their asses into their companions. "They're so ready." Carlisle groaned again, wanting those three wet, ready women. He was straining forward, thrusting at the air before him as he raptly watched those exploring fingers.

"She's so wet," the Guard continued, as he moved his arm between them, shifting her cloak out of the way and running his hands down the backs of her legs as she wrapped an arm around his neck. "I wonder if I can slip in..." The Guard lifted each of her knees from behind, spreading her wide and lifting her above his straining cock. He had moved forward as he shifted her weight, and her wet folds were now mere inches from Carlisle's face. He _could _lick her now, but was captivated by what he saw. The Guard lowered her slowly. She reached down with her free hand to line them up, and then cried out, throwing her head back onto his shoulder as he slowly impaled her before Carlisle's eyes. If Carlisle were not already kneeling, the sight of her — spread wide and filled, her damp trimmed curls framing her glistening cunt and throbbing clit, her gasping breaths making her jutting breasts quiver as she writhed — would have easily driven him to his knees. The male Guard's legs were spread wide for balance, and he slowly rolled his hips. Carlisle watched intently as the man's cock slid slowly in and out, making delicious sounds…

"Isn't she beautiful like this?" the Guard asked.

"Fuck, yes!" Carlisle groaned, eying her glistening clit, tasting her on the air, and moving his mouth toward her…

Fingers ran through his hair and forced his head to tilt back against a waiting flat abdomen. He could see the underside of full breasts being pinched and teased, and he groaned and thrust again, but this time his straining cock met with something much more substantial than air. Something wet and hot had been positioned in front of him. He looked down to see that a female Guard was now on hands and knees between the legs of the mating pair, cloak thrown toward her head and back arched to offer her gleaming sex to him.

"Oh, _fuck_," Carlisle whispered, his attention torn between all the stimuli: the sight of his own cock half buried in a nameless cunt; the sliding cock impaling the lithe moaning form being suspended in front of his face; the body pressing at him from behind now, raking fingers through his hair; and his own arms stretched deliciously by his weight pulling on the chains. So much stimulation… and he wanted… he wanted…

"Fuck her," came a whispered command, and he groaned in relief as he complied, plunging into her depths. It felt delicious, and the Guard in front of him matched every stroke into his own partner as Carlisle watched, mesmerized. He stared as the Guard's cock slid lusciously into his partner over and over. The Guard spread her legs impossibly wider, tempting Carlisle with her sweet scent that was right there… right there. "Taste her," came the second command, and Carlisle fell upon the girl's swollen clit, adoring it with his mouth as he strained against the chains to thrust over and over into the hot, willing sheath before him. As his tongue circled her, he could feel the motion of the thrusts pushing her up and into his mouth. Both women moaned and bucked, and both men quickened their pace, and soon the cries of passion echoed against the stone walls. Other hands, he had no idea whose, ran through his hair, along his neck, scratching, pulling, making everything feel more intense. For long minutes, the carnal frenzy intensified, building and coiling and tightening on the edge of a precipice. The girl under Carlisle's tongue went first, threading the fingers of her free hand through his hair and grinding harshly against his mouth and she screamed and bucked through her release. The male Guard came next as she clenched around him, followed closely by Carlisle as a fresh wave of honey coated his tongue. Shimmering hot bliss scorched his mind, and his frenzied thrusts caused the Guard on her knees to convulse around him in a chain of spasms, prolonging his own intense release.

Carlisle barely noticed that he slumped forward as the Guard members moved away from him. His shackles were unlocked and he literally fell into the arms of another Guard member, his mind still immersed in slowly receding waves of ecstasy.

"Move him to the table." He heard the words as if they were muffled by water, but he felt himself be lifted, and carried and set on a padded table. He heard the familiar click of locking carabiners, and chuckled: the idea that restraints were necessary when he could barely move his limbs seemed very funny to his orgasm-addled mind. But all humor left him when he felt his cock once again engulfed in wet heat.

_Fuck… oh god…_

"Watch," came the whispered command, and Carlisle struggled to open his eyes. A hooded figure was kneeling between his splayed legs, face lowered and mouth on his reawakening member, shapely ass lifted. Another hooded figure stood on the table behind the first, stroking his cock as he looked down at Carlisle, and then at the kneeling Guard. He reached down and lifted the cloak, pushing it toward her shoulders and hood — for Carlisle could now be sure that the Guard sucking him was definitely a _her_ — and rubbed his hand on her bare ass. Carlisle groaned expectantly, and felt a moan around his cock, which was once again hardening. The male Guard knelt and reached down behind her and then lifted two glistening fingers. "You've gotten her so wet." Carlisle groaned and thrust, watching fluid drip from the fingers to the top of her crack. The Guard got more liquid from her cunt, and smeared it on her puckered hole. Carlisle was enthralled as a finger slowly disappeared into her hole, and she squirmed and moaned over on his cock. The more the Guard pumped his finger, the more she writhed and pushed her throat down on Carlisle's cock. A second finger was added, and heat coiled at the base of Carlisle's spine as she bucked and panted around his shaft. A third finger was added and she was practically sobbing with need.

"She's ready for you." Carlisle was stunned as other Guard members approached her, spun her until she was facing away from him, and then lowered her onto his aching shaft. She was so tight; Carlisle howled a stream of profanities, straining against his bindings as she slowly took him, further and further into her tight heat, until he was fully sheathed. So hot, so tight, so good. She rocked her hips, drawing him deeper, and then slowly laid back on his chest, her cloak partially obscuring his vision. Carlisle heard her cry out "Yes!" and felt the push and extra weight as the Guard who had prepared her slid into her cunt and began thrusting. Carlisle felt her slide up and down on his cock as she was fucked mercilessly. It was carnal; growls and cries of pleasure filled the air as the three of them hurdled to release. He had seen this in Volterra, and his mind drifted between the experience of feeling it now, and the experience of watching it from his past. His mind had grown hazy with all his orgasms, and he felt as if he were out of his body… as if he were his own voyeur, and his own exhibitionist in these forbidden, forbidden arts. Flashes danced across his mind: wide ruby eyes, breasts pinched by metal clamps, billowing cloaks framing nude, aroused bodies…he knew not at this point what was real, what was memory, and what was fantasy. He was abruptly pulled from such musings by the very real clenching of her ass on his cock as she screamed and thrashed through her orgasm. She took both men with her, and white fire ripped up Carlisle's spine and engulfed his mind in light.

When Carlisle began to be aware of his surroundings again, the first thing he noticed was that his wrists were stretched and shackled straight out from his shoulders, and his ankles had been shackled to the same D-bolts as his wrists, forcing him spread wide into a Supta Konasana yoga pose, with his ass straight up in the air and his shoulders pressed into the table. The second thing he noticed was that a body was pressed against his back, supporting it, and a hand was massaging his balls, while a finger traced where the vibrator he'd long since forgotten about still protruded from his ass. He moaned as the hand brushed over it, pressing ever so slightly deeper into him.

"He's coming around again," he heard whispered.

"It's taking longer," came the hushed reply.

"That's normal; the endorphins and dopamine are building up. For vampires, recovery time is never about ejaculate."

Carlisle felt the dildo being twisted slowly, and shuddered with pleasure. He felt fingers rake through his hair, and he looked up to see the torso of a woman standing at the edge of the table, just above his head. She leaned forward and slowly took his balls into her mouth. He writhed and panted, watching her breasts sway above him as she rolled her tongue over his sacks. This was Esme…in such close contact he recognized her scent. Carlisle felt the dildo being pumped slowly in and out of his ass, slowly rebuilding heat in his groin. His breathing was becoming labored, and just as he hoped they would turn the vibrator on and thrust with more vigor, the dildo was removed and he felt a slick hot tongue swirl over his opening. A strangled cry ripped from his throat, and the tongue jerked away. He whimpered…

_No, no… more!_

"Didn't he like it," a fearful whisper asked.

"He loved it; he wants it back."

"Oh. Why didn't he say something?"

"Um… he seems to be incapable of speech right now."

"Excellent."

The tongue was back, laving his hole and swirling deep into the opening. Esme moved her mouth from his balls to his cock, and her breasts grazed his chest as she worked him at the awkward angle. Everywhere he was touched by something wet and warm and velvety, and in what seemed like an impossibly short amount of time he was coming again, jerking against his restraints and bucking against tongues as he filled Esme's throat and his mind floated free and senseless.

He rode wave after wave of ecstasy. He was no longer aware positions, or individuals, or even what part of their bodies might be touching his. It was all just sensations… Ruby-eyed women with slicked-back hair moved around him, whether in dreams or reality he knew not. Their hoods were removed, but he was incapable of distinguishing them from each other, much less identifying them. He could smell that Esme, Rosalie and Alice were present. And perhaps Edward, though he seemed only to be Carlisle's translator at this point. All the other scents had faded. But which of the three women was riding his face versus his cock, who had attached the nipple clamps, and who was sucking his toes… he had no idea, nor did he care. It was heavenly, nearly perfect…

"He wants to be kissed…"

Even now, with lips pressed close against his, and a tongue whose taste he should know gliding against his, Carlisle's mind was blank…he knew only sensation. It built, and he came languidly, and it all began again. There were no people, no family, no forbidden Guards. Only tongues and a cock and slick sheaths and gripping fingers and bliss, bliss, bliss…


	3. The Study

**Chapter 3. The Study**

_AN: I'm getting such a kick out of the reviews. Thanks so much. Carlisle will finally awaken from his orgasm-addled, blissed out stupor. As always, heed the warnings… and there are no secrets really. This is an angst-free chapter.  
><em>

_Carlisle x Bella; role-playing, Daddy kink, deep throating, anal_

* * *

><p>Carlisle sunk slowly back into awareness of his body and his surroundings. His limbs felt heavy and slow, but his mind felt amazingly light and clear. He noticed the echo of dripping water… long gone were the sounds of rustling cloaks, clicking boots, slaps of paddles, or moans of ecstasy. A draft of air drifted across his body, and his bare skin reacted. He realized he was still laying on his back, still naked, and once again blind. He moved to get up and heard the soft clanging of restraints echoing in the cavernous room.<p>

"Shhh. I've got them," a soft voice reassured, and he felt the restraints being removed.

"Bella?" His voice was hoarse from use.

"That's right. I've got you. I'm going to take care of you."

With her help he managed to get into a sitting position, testing his balance. He'd felt disoriented, almost as if he'd been denied blood too long, but it was getting better, except…

"I can't see," he muttered.

"Esme put a blindfold on you. I'll lead you, though, don't worry."

She took his arm and put it over her shoulder, helping him to his feet, and he was overwhelmed with the scent of freesia and baby powder. She smelled clean, fresh, and innocent. In contrast, all he smelled on himself was the crusted sticky remains of sex.

"Where are we going?" Carlisle asked as he followed Bella out of the room and back up the stairs.

"How does a bath sound?"

He groaned softly as he said, "Delightful," and Bella laughed gently.

She led him first to a shower to rinse off the bulk of the grime, and then in no time at all he was in a deep tub of deliciously warm water. It smelled of cedar wood oil and rosemary, but Carlisle could still smell the clean floral scent of Bella through the other aromas, especially when she leaned over him to reach for some shampoo. She handed him a washcloth, saying, "I'll wash your hair if you wash everything else."

"That sounds fair," he said, relishing the feel of her fingers running through his hair as he began to languidly scrub his body.

"Um…I'm going to need to take this off," she said, tugging the strap of his blindfold. "But you need to keep your eyes closed. Do you promise?"

He chuckled. "Of course, if it's so important. But why can't I look yet?"

"I'm sure there's a very good reason…" Bella said evasively, and Carlisle decided not to push it, remembering he'd promised Esme that he would play along with any scenario he found himself in, though this hardly seemed like what she'd alluded to. "Now lean back so I can wash your hair properly."

It was delightful, _delightful_, to feel Bella's fingers massage his scalp, and he found he regretted when he was finally clean and there was no more excuse to linger. He stretched his neck and shoulders enjoying the freedom of motion, and suddenly Bella was no longer leaning over the tub to massage his scalp, but was seated directly behind his head on the platform, her legs dangling into the tub, her knees on either side of his shoulders, and she was massaging his neck and shoulders as well as his scalp. He was suddenly _very _aware that mere inches behind his head, her legs were spread wide. He could even catch the faint smell of her sex. She was not aroused, and he couldn't help feeling slightly disappointed, though he quickly stamped the feeling out. All her touches since they'd entered the bathroom had been innocent. Not like before, when she'd…

Carlisle realized he wasn't sure what Bella might have done with him in the dungeon. Surely she'd been present… yes, he remembered her at the beginning, and a figure that was probably her had touched and aroused him as they were first starting out. But he couldn't remember any intercourse where her scent was particularly strong, and he suspected now that she'd left before things had gotten completely wild, and he'd become delirious.

Of course, that made sense. Bella and Edward were still fairly newly married, and though they were sexually active, they'd only recently started playing with the other family members. He and Bella had kissed, had touched each other over their clothes, and she'd once given him a lovely hand job, but even that had been sweet and, in its way, innocent. As he thought about it, he was surprised she participated in the Volturi dungeon scene at all…

"Ready to get out?" she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

He sighed, not really wanting to, but knowing that there was little reason to stay.

"Do you know what's next on my agenda?"

"As a matter of fact, you'll be spending the next few hours with me." He could hear the smile in her voice. "The others are busy for a while and, well, I asked for the time…we so rarely get to spend any time alone together…"

His cock twitched at the thought she wanted to spend time alone with him, and he again tried to stamp out even the slightest hint of arousal. Bella's comment was likely innocent. He'd grown so used hedonism in the last… actually he no idea how much time had passed since he left the hospital… that he was seeing sexual innuendo everywhere. He chided himself for being a dirty old man, even as the fantasies he'd long held for Bella's lithe body danced across his mind.

Bella helped him out of the tub, reminding him to keep his eyes closed, and offered him a towel. Now that he was no longer in a submissive mind frame, he was feeling uncomfortable being naked with her, and he was grateful when she wrapped a particularly soft and thick robe around him, tying it firmly around his waist. She combed his damp hair back with her fingers, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and said, "good as new."

He followed as she led him out of the bathroom and down a carpeted hall.

"Bella, what time is it? Actually, what day is it?"

She laughed as she led him; it was a sweet sound… unaffected.

"Does it matter?"

"No, I suppose not," he chuckled.

"We're here," she announced, opening a door and ushering him in. He heard the door latch shut, and then lock. "Now you sit back here…" she pushed him gently backward until he met with a couch and sat. "And, you can open your eyes."

He did, and the sight before him stopped his breath. It was Bella, her hair in the same messy bun she'd worn the first day he met her…treated her in the hospital. But instead of a loose sweater and baggy jeans, she wore a tiny pink t-shirt with the words _"__Obstinate, __headstrong__ girl!__" — _a favorite quote from _Pride __and __Prejudice_ — stretched tightly across her firm breasts, as if they needed more attention drawn to their pert perfection. A sliver of skin was visible at the bottom of her shirt. Soft knit shorts that barely extended below her crotch clung low on her hips. Her legs were bare from her lean thighs to her perfectly manicured toes. And though he _knew _her to be eighteen, married, and sexually active, that's not how she looked. She looked young and unaware of her allure. She looked like a fucking wet dream.

"Your study!" she announced brightly, apparently oblivious to the fact that Carlisle had just completely ogled her and was quickly growing hard. He moved his arm across his lap to hide the evidence, shocked that he hadn't even noticed his surroundings yet.

"So it is," he agreed, recognizing books and artwork that must have come out of storage to create a room that looked much like his study in Forks, with a few exceptions. The desk was a perfect match, and he wondered for a moment if they'd moved the one from Forks. Everything else was mishmash from different houses he owned around the country. Still, it felt familiar, like it really was his, though he'd never seen quite this configuration of his belongings before. The smells and sights were all familiar and comforting, except one.

Bella quickly curled up on Carlisle's lap, sideways, like a child visiting Santa to ask for a present. She wrapped her right arm around his neck, and he was hit again with the scent of baby powder and flowers.

"Isn't this nice, Daddy?" she whispered, "I thought we could read together for a while, just the two of us…"

Carlisle closed his eyes and swallowed heavily. _Sweet __mother__ of __Jesus,__ she__ did _not _just __call__ me __Daddy,_ he thought as she cuddled closer to him, wriggling her ass on his lap as she settled into a comfortable position.

"That would be lovely, sweetheart," he said, recovering slightly from the shock of her actions and words. He felt like he should hold her to him on his lap, but everywhere he could possibly place his hands there was smooth bare skin exposed: her legs, the small of her back where her shirt was riding up, her arms… He settled on her elbow and the knee furthest from him, holding her legs firmly closed until he could sort out what was happening.

She leaned forward to take the top book off a pile that next to them on the sofa, moving against his extremely erect cock in the process… and Carlisle thought that there was no way that she was unaware of his condition. She was not truly so innocent. Yet she gave no indication of even noticing his hard-on, much less giving any reaction to it. She started to settle back onto his lap, sighing contentedly, eyes clear and gold. His own eyes, he felt sure, were darkening. He looked at her choice: Chaucer's _The__ Legend __of__ Good__ Women_, turned to the section on Hypermnestra. The rest of the pile also consisted of classic literature pulled from his personal library.

"Ooh, I almost forgot. Music!" She jumped up abruptly, moved to the bookcase and bent over at the waist to pick up a CD off the floor. Carlisle watched as her shorts rode up to expose the lower curve of her flawless heart-shaped ass.

He groaned internally, adjusting himself and trying to close his robe more securely. He would never make it though the next hour.

She turned on _Kind__ of__ Blue_ by Miles Davis and returned to his lap, and then Carlisle was subjected to an exquisite torture. She read, snuggling into his chest and the crook of his lap, wriggling against his cock as she shifted positions to turn pages. And just when he'd been _sure_ that she was doing it on purpose to arouse him, she'd push away from his chest to turn toward him and ask a question about the Old English translation or the politics of the church in the late fourteenth century. He'd look at the page and try to read the original text and make intelligent comments on the translation, but really he was mesmerized by the outer curve of her breast where the tiny t-shirt stretched across. He was quite certain that she was not wearing a bra, and that did nothing for his concentration. He found himself watching her lips as she read, wondering if they were really as soft as he remembered. Her tongue would peek out to wet her lips between sentences, and he found himself wondering if her mouth were hot, and whether she yet knew the arts of tongues… arts that had little to do with language…

They continued with Chaucer through _Kind __of__ Blue_, and Carlisle watched raptly as Bella bent over again to get a replacement disk. Surely the CDs did not _have_ to be stored on the floor. He found himself far too focused on her ass as she began to turn again, and he looked quickly to the book to prevent her from seeing the color of his eyes. She settled back on his lap, nestling into his chest and sighing happily. He thought he could smell a trace of arousal through the baby powder, but her gold eyes showed him that was merely wishful thinking.

"This is so nice, Daddy. I like spending time with you," she said, looking down a bit.

"I like it, too, angel," he answered, kissing her temple and trying to ignore the fact that his cock twitched every time she called him that while dressed like this.

"You're so patient with me," she whispered.

His breath hitched and his hand inadvertently squeezed her bare knee slightly as he whispered back, "How am I patient?"

"You're so good about answering my questions. I'm so curious, and you know so much."

Carlisle swallowed thickly as he considered the possible meanings of that statement. His current state of mind was likely playing tricks on him, causing him to see innuendo where it didn't exist.

"I'm always happy to satisfy your curiosity, angel," he settled on for a response, knowing that it was true whether she was referring to literature or… other pursuits.

She kissed is cheek, lingering slightly, and then smiled warmly and picked up the book. They settled in for another forty-five minutes of literary discussion and sexual tension — on his side at least — while Oscar Peterson played. They finished talking about Chaucer and had moved onto Yeats when the music ended.

This time, when she went to change the disc, he didn't dare watch. He'd been hard for so long. He had to minimize her effect.

"Daddy?"

"Hmmm?" He looked up to see her bending over as before, holding two CDs.

_Sweet mother of…_

"Do you want John Coltrane or Dave Brubeck?"

"Oh, I'm happy either way," he said, dragging his eyes away from her ass and straightening his robe again. In a moment he heard the strains of _A__ Love__ Supreme_, and he groaned. This music was supposed to be about devotion to God's love, but it had always inspired a much more carnal devotion in him.

"Daddy?"

Carlisle braced himself and looked up again, to find Bella looking at him uncertainly, biting her lip.

"Angel, what is it?" he asked, truly concerned that he'd somehow upset her.

She looked down for a moment, as if steeling her nerves. Then she looked him in the eye. "I have a secret, Daddy."

"A secret?"

She nodded nervously. Their gazes locked for a moment, and Carlisle felt her hesitate. She was deciding, right in that moment, whether to show him something of her true self. Something important.

"Sweet girl," he said cautiously, "any secret you might decide to share with me would remain safe… just between the two of us." He suddenly felt like her confessor, and his cock twitched again at the idea of _those_ dynamics being superimposed on everything else that may or may not be happening between them today.

"I've hidden something in your study."

"Show me," he suggested, and he was surprised by the breathy nature of his voice. He cleared his throat. "Please, dearest. Show me what you've decided to hide in my private study."

She bent down, watching him, and he saw the lower curve of her ass just peek out as she pulled a book off the lower shelf and then stood.

Carlisle bit back a smile. Of course Bella's dark secret would be a book.

"Come here, angel. Show me what you have there." And this time when she settled on his lap, he rested his hand on the knee closest to him, his fingers slipping between her knees, caressing momentarily that sensitive, secret skin. And he pulled her tight to him, flush with the crook of his lap and the aching length of his shaft. Once again she did not seem to notice, but the pressure of her outer thigh offered him some relief.

The book, as it turned out, was a collection of erotic poetry, tame by some standards — Cummings, Neruda, Lowell — but as Bella read her favorites, he was intoxicated by her reaction: the delightful squirm that emanated from her belly and was broadcast to his lap, the way her lips stumbled over the particularly descriptive passages. He could perfectly imagine the blush that would be warming her face and neck if she were still capable of producing it. He allowed his fingers to softly caress the inside of her knee as he listened, enjoying her delicate arousal. And then, as she turned a page, two photos fluttered out of the book. She grabbed for them, but Carlisle was faster. He studied the pictures for a moment before looking at Bella's downcast face. Her jaw was slightly tense, and her eyes darted to him for just a fraction of a second. She was looking to see his expression. To see if he'd play along. A tremble played low on his spine as he realized the role he was to play. He was all too pleased to do it.

"Do you like these pictures, sweetheart?" he whispered.

She held perfectly still for a moment, and then nodded slowly, eyes carefully avoiding him or the pictures.

"Angel, look at me," Carlisle said gently.

Bella met his gaze, and then blurted out, "I'm sorry, Daddy. I know it's demeaning, and I know you want me to be a good, strong girl. I just… I…"

"Shhh. Angel…" he said, pulling her closer, kissing her temple, and stroking her knee reassuringly. "I know what a good girl you are. I know how brave and strong you are, and how you stand up for yourself. I'm always so proud of you. But who we are in life is not always who we are in sex."

"Really?" she asked shakily.

"Of course. Take me for example. Every day I have people's lives in my hands and many responsibilities at the hospital. And you've seen for yourself how I enjoy having my control taken away during sex. Not always, of course, but sometimes it's exactly what I want."

"I guess so…" she mumbled.

He rubbed her back to comfort her, and his hand slipped down the bare skin at the small of her back. "I think it makes perfect sense that a good girl like you would fantasize about having filthy, nasty things to her. Really," he added as she squirmed in embarrassment. "That's why you like those pictures, isn't it?" Her breath hitched as his hand started tracing circles on the skin of her inner thigh, just above her knee. "They excite you, don't they? Tell me, do you make yourself come while looking at them?"

She parted her knees slightly, quivering as she nodded.

"Mmmm," Carlisle hummed appreciatively at the thought. "I thought so. There's something I'm very curious about, though, angel…" Carlisle's fingers continued to trace light circles as they inched up the inside of her leg.

"What's that, Daddy?" This time when his cock twitched, he relished the sensation.

"Why is it that you've hidden your book and pictures in my study? Is it just that you need a private place?"

"No…" she said breathily, reacting to his caresses. "I mean, I do need a private place, but I like to come here." She sat up, arching a bit into his touch as his fingertips stroked her lower back and inner thigh. "I like coming here because it smells like you," she admitted with a whisper.

Carlisle closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, savoring the deceptively innocent scent of her perfume mingling with that of her arousal. He wrapped his fingers around her hip and pulled her firmly against his throbbing cock, causing her knees to fall further apart. His fingers were nearly to her apex now, and her arousal was clear.

He moved his lips to the shell of her ear, and whispered. "So when we all think you are upstairs reading Austen or Bronte, you are secretly shut in my study, looking at these pictures and fingering yourself while immersed in my scent."

"Yes!" she moaned quietly, writhing at the thought.

"Because it's _my_ cock you imagine being thrust deep into your mouth or sliding into your ass," he whispered, describing the pictures that were now lying on the sofa beside them. "Isn't it, little girl?"

"Yes," she moaned wantonly, then added in a worried whisper, "but Daddy… people will know if we…if you…"

Carlisle groaned as the last piece of the fantasy fell into place. She was pretending to be a virgin… the clothes, the innocent baby powder perfume, the shy looks, the content of those photos: it all made sense.

He moved his mouth close to her ear again and whispered conspiratorially. "Don't worry, dear girl. The things in those pictures won't disturb your hymen. This will be our little secret…" She whimpered as his fingers finally brushed the soft material of her shorts between her legs. It was sopping wet, and it occurred to Carlisle that Bella might not be merely fulfilling one of his fantasies. This might truly be a fantasy of hers as well. _That_ thought created a delicious coil of heat deep within his belly.

"Daddy will take good care of you, angel, and no one has to know." He whispered, finally embracing her nickname for him. She moaned and writhed against his fingers as a fresh wave of moisture soaked the fabric. "Is that what you want?" he continued. "Do you want me to fuck your mouth and ass? Do you want to be taken just like the little slut in your pictures?"

"Yes, Daddy, yes!" she whispered harshly, grinding against his hand and clutching the collar of his robe to pull herself closer to him.

"Hold on, dear girl," he said. "You aren't ready. Come here…" He helped position her so she was straddling his lap. He put his hands on either side of her slim waist, and ran his thumbs along the underside of her breasts, delighted when her nipples tightened.

"You look so sweet in this little shirt…so innocent. But you haven't been innocent, have you, angel? You've known exactly what effect you've had on me for the last two hours." Carlisle slowly lifted the shirt to expose her breasts, brushing his thumbs against her hardened nipples as she breathed heavily. "You like the fact that you've had me hard for hours, pretending to be oblivious while you toyed with me. You like what you do to me, don't you, little girl?"

"Yes!" Then she gave a little yelp as he pinched her nipple.

He tutted in disapproval. "You have to be quiet, dear girl, if you want this to be a secret. Clasp your hands behind your back, angel." She complied quickly, and he lifted the front of her shirt over her head so it was bunched tight around her upper arms, causing her chest to jut out. "There," he said, trailing his fingers over the tops of her breasts and rolling her nipples between thumb and forefingers. "Now you look more like that little slut. Keep your arms just like this, angel."

"Yes, Daddy," she whispered.

"Now I have one more question for you. When you sneak into my study to masturbate while envisioning my cock in your mouth…" She shuddered at his words, and he trailed a finger down to her damp shorts and gently rubbed over her clit. "Where do you like to be? Do you sit here on the sofa?"

"No, Daddy," she answered, squirming into his touch. "The desk."

"You sit at my desk… in my chair?"

"No, Daddy. I sit under your desk. I imagine _you_ in your chair…"

_Sweet mother of god, it was prefect._

He leaned forward, still stroking her, so he could whisper in her ear.

"I've imagined you there too, angel...so many times." She whimpered as he slid his hands to her hips and lifted her off his lap. "Go there now. Be very quiet."

He watched her scramble to the other side of the desk, push the chair away with her hip, and disappear underneath.

After a moment of anticipation, during which he finally palmed his cock through his robe, he stood and walked over to his desk, noting that there was the usual combination of novels, newspapers, and medical journals… in fact, on closer inspection, these were the journals he'd brought home in the box. He grinned, picking one up. Apparently, he was allowed to read them, as long as he was subjected to such distraction that he'd never actually get through an article. He sat on the edge of his plush leather chair, tucked himself halfway under the desk, and opened a journal. This is how his fantasies of Bella always started; he was always trying to work when the thought of her mouth slipping over his cock descended on him. He started reading the abstract and slowly untied his robe, pushing it back as if he were merely warm, and not horny as sin. He spread his knees apart slowly as he finished the abstract, and by the time he'd finished the introduction and started the methods section, his legs were splayed wide, each knee grazing the wood of the drawer casings on either side. Carlisle praised whatever deity was responsible for him having such a large desk. He reached for a pen to make a note in the margin when he felt the first swipe of a tongue on the tip of his cock. He stilled for a moment, bracing himself against the quiver in his belly, and finished the note as he felt a second swipe, and a third, and then a swirl all the way around his tip before he felt her hot mouth move completely over the head of his cock. Reading, at this point, was impossible. He began moving piles of papers and journals, clearing the area in front of him.

He wasn't sure _why _he wanted to affect disinterest: perhaps to prolong the experience, perhaps to make her work for his attention, to punish her for teasing him for _hours_ before acknowledging her desire for him. But regardless, he wanted to maintain the illusion that he was working… that if someone popped their head into his office to ask him a question, they would never know the deliciously naughty things happening just below the surface of his desk. Aside from the fact that he was wearing a bathrobe, which was open…

He felt her mouth slide slowly up and down his shaft, her tongue circling around the tip on each upstroke, and all pretenses had to be abandoned. He leaned back into the plush leather of his chair, and for the first time watched as Bella's mouth slid down his cock, and then back up, her cheeks hollowed out and her eyes closed. Behind her head he could see the faux restraint of her t-shirt on her upper arms, and behind that, her firmly clasped hands. It was an incredible view, and though Carlisle was not generally a sexual Dominant with women, seeing her like this was causing strange stirrings in him. Her expression was blissful, and he wondered for a moment if she were a natural submissive… if she'd let him bind her for real next time. Assuming he'd be allowed this decadent game again…

"Oh, angel," he sighed. "You look so good like this. You look so nice and so naughty with your pretty lips wrapped around my cock and your arms held behind your back." She squirmed in response. "I love watching myself disappear into your little hot mouth… you're so good at…"

Carlisle shuddered and gasped when he felt himself hit the back of her throat. And again. And again.

_Fuck… that was, FUCK._

And he watched her face to see if there was any resistance, any fear, any desire to stop, any physical need to stop… but her face was blissful. And then… _and__ then_… she pushed _past_ that point, and he felt his cock squeeze into the narrow confines of her throat. He clutched the arms of his chair, willing himself not to come, as he watched himself slowly disappear, bit by bit, until her mouth was pressed against his pubis and he was surrounded by the tight heat of her throat. And just as he was thinking that he might be able to move and not come _immediately_, she opened her obsidian eyes, gazed deeply into his, and swallowed.

"Holy fucking shit, Be... angel!" he cried, bucking his hips involuntarily. He was immediately sorry, and started to apologize for his thrust when he saw her eyes roll back and close in clear pleasure.

_Sweet mother of god, she really does like it._

He gently wrapped a hand behind her head and rolled his hips experimentally, pushing another centimeter or two into her throat. She writhed in pleasure, and he was almost undone. The girl had no gag reflex at all.

"Angel?"

Her eyes opened.

"I'm going to fuck your hot little throat now. If you want me to stop, just shake your head, and I'll let go, okay." She nodded. He brought his other hand down to her face, gently tracing where they were connected as he slowly rocked his hips, feeling himself slide incrementally in and out against her lips.

"So pretty, dear girl… you look so pretty taking my cock so deep. Follow me…" He held her face firmly against his pubis and pushed with his feet, rolling his chair back slowly as she followed on her knees. When she was clear of the desk, he stood, and she was kneeling before him, flush with his legs, and open, so open, his cock buried deep in her mouth.

"We look just like just like your picture, angel," he whispered as he started slowly rocking his hips, lengthening his strokes each time, until he was pulling clear of her throat and then sliding all the way back in. Bella was writhing and moaning, and he began thrusting harder and faster, holding her head steady. And it felt _glorious_ to thrust with abandon into an open mouth. He would never _dream_ of using Esme this way. With her history, this would qualify as abuse, and he would never do anything to hurt her. Rosalie, too, would hate this, and Alice was too small… she couldn't have taken him like this without gagging, even if she'd wanted to. But Bella loved it. And the harder he thrust, the more ecstatic she became, until he wondered if she might come before he'd even touched her properly. She _loved_ it, and that meant he could love it too. And he did, oh, Lord he did.

"Fuck, angel, I'm not going to last much longer. You teased Daddy too much, and you feel too good, and…" she swallowed, and he went rigid after one final thrust, pouring himself into her with a long drawn out moan.

He'd been panting for nearly thirty seconds, his mind completely awash in bliss, when he felt her pull off of him. He looked down to see her taut and trembling with need. He chastised himself for neglecting her so long.

"Come here, sweetheart."

He helped her to her feet. He was temporarily sated, and part of him just wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her gently. But she was quivering, and they had one more picture to reenact…

He put his hands on her hips and walked her backward until her ass hit the desk, and then he slowly turned her and pushed her shoulder blades down, pressing her torso down into the bare spot he'd created on his desk while she'd had him in her mouth. And though he'd just come, his cock twitched at the sight of her bent over his workspace, surrounded by his reading materials. He'd imagined taking her like this before, too. He was getting to explore so many fantasies this weekend…

He placed a hand on either hip, and roughly pulled her shorts down to her knees as she whimpered.

"Shhh. Daddy will take care of his sweet angel. Spread your legs a little for me."

She did, and Carlisle slipped a hand between her legs, gathered fluid from her sopping core, and dragged it up to her sweet, puckered ass. She arched her back, and he did it again, this time reaching further up, caressing her slick folds all the way to her clit, and back down. He froze abruptly with a gasp. _Sweet __Jesus,__was__ she__… __could__ she__ be_…

"Bella, are you waxed?"

"What," she moaned breathily. "Oh, um, yeah."

He spun her around so she was sitting on the edge of the desk and pressed her shoulders until she was resting on her elbows. Then he used her shorts like a handle to raise her knees and push them into her shoulders, exposing her perfectly bare, glistening pussy.

"Holy fucking shit," he whispered.

He dragged his fingers through the slick folds, enjoying the lack of resistance, observing how the smooth champagne skin merged into the slightly pink folds like painted porcelain. It was art. Then he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He dragged his fingers through the moisture, caressing the folds, and then circled her little hole, until it was slick. He glanced up at her as he repeated his motion. Bella was watching him intently, wound tight like a spring. He gently pressed a finger in, knuckle deep, and Bella sobbed.

"Are you okay, dearest girl?" he asked softly, moving his finger slowly in and out.

She nodded vehemently. "I just… I need more," she gasped.

"And you'll have it. Daddy will give you everything you can handle, I promise," he whispered as he got one finger pressed all the way in, and started stroking the edge of her opening. "But not yet."

He lowered his mouth to her clit, and she bucked and cried out.

"Shhh," he said, lifting his mouth an inch off her folds, and then lowering it again slowly stroking her with his tongue. She whimpered, trying to stay quiet, but sobbed again as he added another finger.

If Carlisle liked the look of Bella's bare pussy, he _loved_ the way it felt…how his tongue would glide over the soft bare outer folds and then slip into the slick inner folds over and over with no resistance. He loved how Bella writhed and sobbed with need for him. The hours she'd spent teasing him and then getting him off, she'd been teasing herself as well, and now she was frantic and desperate and wanting him _so_ badly. And he wanted her too. He was _so_ hard for her again.

"Oh god…yes… _shit_… oh, god… right there!" she chanted wildly as his tongue rolled over her and his fingers pressed deep into her ass. After being on the receiving end of so much pleasure, he reveled in bringing joy to another.

He added a third finger for good measure, and when her opening relaxed again, he sucked her clit into his mouth and she came hard, clenching around his fingers. He lapped up her juices as she rode her peak, and then lifted her to her feet and spun her into her original position, bent over his desk. He wet his cock with her juices, and then placed a hand on each cheek and spread her ass, just like in the photo. He slid his cock along her crack until he was lined up, and held her still as she tried to buck onto him.

"Is this still what you want, angel?"

"Yes!" came her murmured groan.

He held his cock still at her entrance. "Yes…"

"Daddy!" she blurted out in a rushed whisper. "Yes, Daddy. Fuck me, Daddy. Fuck me hard, please."

He slid himself in slowly as she moaned and squirmed.

"Oh, angel," he said as he watched himself slide into her. "You're so tight. Fuck, angel, you're so tight."

Bella whimpered and panted under him, little puffs of air disturbing the pages of his discarded journal article that he couldn't _begin_ to remember the topic of.

"You can take it, angel. You can take it all in. What a good girl. Oh fuck, angel," he said when his hips were finally flush with her cheeks. "You're so good….so good…"

He held perfectly still to allow her to adjust to him. It was an intense act of control; every ounce of his body was screaming to thrust. But he'd never hurt her…

"Daddy?" she asked, exhaling a long breath and relaxing onto the surface of the desk.

He closed his eyes and felt himself twitch deep in her tight ass. "Yes, dear girl?"

"Just like the picture…"

He gripped her hips more firmly. "Yes, angel…just how you want it..." And just how he wanted it.

Carlisle pulled back and slammed into her over and over as Bella's moans grew louder and more intense…any pretense at being secretive had long since been abandoned by both of them. His thrusts were rocking her against the edge of the desk, continuing to stimulate her clit as he slid insistently into her. Together they climbed, Bella's moans and writhing feeding his thrusts, Carlisle's thrusts and grunts feeding her moans. They were in practically feral states when she stiffened and cried out, clenching around him, and he knew she was tumbling. He followed, pulling at her ass hard against him and roaring as he emptied himself into her. He fell forward onto his hand, hovering over her, and they both panted dazedly. Finally, Carlisle gingerly pulled out of her, and lifted her shorts back into place. He found his robe bunched on the floor and put it on, and then gently pulled Bella up and helped her reposition her shirt onto to torso.

He collapsed onto his chair and pulled her into his lap, and they clung to each other for many long minutes as stroked her hair. Finally, Bella broke the silence.

"Carlisle?" He was relieved that the role-playing was over. Now that they were both sated, he wanted to be with _her_, not a persona.

"Yes, Bella?"

"Thank you."

He chuckled. "You don't have to thank me for _that_, Bella. I assure you I quite enjoyed it." He kissed her temple lightly and gathered her up in his arms as she snuggled into his chest. "It was incredible, Bella. I hope it was what you wanted."

"It was perfect," she sighed.

He stroked her hair and thought for a moment. "It wasn't how I expected our first time together to be. I'd still very much like to worship you properly someday…"

She wrapped her hand around the base of his neck, stroking the hair there as she answered, "I'd like that," and gave him a light kiss. "I just felt like we really needed to get this out of our systems first."

"You think this is out of my system now?" he chuckled incredulously. "I think it's more likely that you've created a monster… so to speak."

Bella laughed. It was the same unaffected laugh he'd heard earlier, and it made his heart light. "I've told you before, Carlisle, no one could ever consider you a monster." They sat quietly for another minute or two, recovering and enjoying a closeness that was new and refreshing. She leaned in to whisper conspiratorially in his ear, "If you ever want your angel back, just call me an _obstinate, __headstrong__ girl,_ and I'll come to you."

"Hmmm," he thought appreciatively, holding her more tightly. "And if I ever see you in this shirt again, I'll know how to behave. If this one's been ruined, just let me know and I'll buy you another one… or twenty. Oh, I did have one question though…during that _torturous_ Chaucer discussion, I was aroused, I thought I could smell that you were aroused, but every time I looked at your eyes they were clear and gold…I thought I was going mad."

"Contacts," Bella grinned.

"But there was no line. I could see the edge of the red lenses you all wore in the dungeon."

"Esme was worried that if you didn't see the lines on those, you would be too distracted wondering if we'd all actually fed on human blood to enjoy yourself. She let you see those. These were theatrical contacts. They're very thin and cover the sclera. They dissolve within two hours or so."

"Oh, that's a shame. They're gone then."

"Well, they were a special order… and there was a minimum quantity…"

Carlisle swallowed thickly at the implications _that_ raised, and Bella laughed as his eyes glazed over in thought. She got up off his lap, squeezing his hands in farewell and pulling away.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving so you can get ready to hunt. There's a basin of water and fresh clothes over there in the corner. Jasper will be by to get you in about ten minutes."

Carlisle sighed, not really wanting to get up. "I suppose hunting is a good idea."

"I'm sure it is…"

She opened the door to leave, but before disappearing, she turned to him.

"Carlisle?"

"Yes, Bella?"

She smiled mischievously. "I really _did_ hide something in your study in Forks…"

She left, laughing as Carlisle's expression changed from surprise to anticipation.


	4. The Forest

**Chapter 4: The Forest**

_AN: Thanks for all the reviews! Please heed the warnings…each kinky chapter has a different kink, and not all will appeal to everyone. Also please understand that despite all the talk of secrets…the only real secrets in this story are the ones Carlisle and Edward are keeping from themselves…_

_Carlisle/Jasper/Emmett; poly slash, blood kink, vampy/instinct/dominance sex_

* * *

><p>Carlisle examined his face in the small mirror hanging on the wall over the washing basin. He was clean and dressed, but there were circles under his eyes, and they were dark. How long had he looked like this? When had he last hunted? He thought back…nearly four weeks. He'd gone longer, but it was not a good idea.<p>

There was a gentle rap on the door.

"Come."

Jasper poked his head in.

"Oh, good. You're not wound _nearly_ so tight as you've been," he said, leaning against the doorframe casually and putting his hand in the pocket of his jeans.

Carlisle chuckled, patting his face dry with a towel. "Have I been making you crazy?"

"Just a tad, but I'm not worried now," Jasper said, eyes shining. He looked Carlisle over openly, appraisingly. "You look better, other than needing some blood and maybe a run… you probably need to loosen up those muscles a bit. Ready for some manly hunting time?"

"The girls aren't coming?" Carlisle asked.

"They're all still recovering, I think," he answered with a mischievous wink. Then he laughed. "Embarrassment? Really, Carlisle? Because Emmett thinks you're a god right now…"

Carlisle shook his head, amused and a bit pleased. In many ways, Jasper was his second in command, and able to tease him where others wouldn't really dare. Edward was his oldest, closest friend, the man he leaned on emotionally, and Esme was his mate, but Jasper was the one he strategized with regarding family safety. He was the only male who had ever seriously challenged his leadership, though that was long ago. Jasper would make a good coven leader, if he wanted to be one. But once he'd accepted Carlisle's leadership, he'd accepted it fully, and he seemed happy in his support role. If Jasper had been worried about his mental state, Carlisle realized it must have been serious.

"Sure, let's hunt." Carlisle walked past Jasper and then paused outside the door, realizing he had no idea where he was in the house, or how to get out.

"This way," Jasper said, clasping him firmly on the shoulders before heading past him to the left. They came to the end of a hall, went down a flight of stairs, and to what was clearly a back door. Emmett was waiting for them on a large porch, bouncing up onto his toes, clearly excited.

"This is going to be great! No girls making us mind our manners, and now Track Star isn't coming, so I think we should race," he said gleefully.

"Edward's not coming?" Carlisle asked, feeling oddly hurt that his best friend wasn't joining them.

"He said he'd catch up with us soon… he has something to do first," Jasper said apologetically.

"More like some_one_ to do," Emmett said, wagging his eyebrows and grinning.

Oh. _Oh._ Of course. Edward was willing to have Carlisle and Bella be involved occasionally, but he'd still want to reclaim his mate after such an intimate encounter. That was understandable.

"He'll catch up," Carlisle said, nodding. "So where are we off to? Have either of you scouted the area?"

Jasper pointed to an outcrop at the top of the ridge, about 10 miles away. "There's a riparian area on the other side of that ridge… the elk are often grazing along there in the afternoon. If Emmett wants to race, we could make that outcrop the finish, and then go down the other side more quietly for the hunt."

A race without Edward _was_ appealing. Edward was built for running: tall and lean. Even before his change he'd been fast. In high school, before he'd succumbed to the flu, he'd won several blue ribbons in track and field. He still had them somewhere: part of the memorabilia from his life they'd collected shortly after his change, before the family home came off quarantine and Edward's inheritance could be muddled by lawyers. None of the family stood a chance against him in a straight race. Without him, the field was wide open.

"Of course, Carlisle might be too tired, with all the exercise he's been getting," Emmett said, baiting his patriarch.

Carlisle growled a soft warning, and Jasper rolled his eyes at Emmett. Carlisle sensed a wave of amusement rolling off him, and glared.

"Don't look at me," Jasper said, "_I'm_ not the idiot that thinks he can beat you just because you've been fucked senseless… literally… within the last 24 hours, and then had dessert." He shook his head at Emmett, who wagged his eyebrows again. Jasper gave Carlisle a sidelong glance. "Of course, if you'd like to _prove_ you've still got game…"

Carlisle snorted. They were baiting him, and Carlisle knew it was in jest, that they weren't _actually _challenging him. Jasper accepted his dominance, and Emmett had always been completely loyal, if a bit unconventional in showing his respect. But despite knowing that it was all in fun, his testosterone was surging, and adrenaline was beginning to grip his mind. And it felt _great_.

"The outcrop?" Carlisle confirmed. Emmett had a gleam of victory is his eyes. "Watch yourselves, boys," Carlisle warned, and then gave Emmett a small wink. Emmett's face dropped, his expression confused as Carlisle whizzed by him. He could hear Jasper's laughter erupt as he lengthened his stride.

In moments, of course, they had caught up, more or less, and he caught glimpses of them weaving through the trees on either side of him. It was exhilarating, and he realized he hadn't just really let loose in ages.

Edward had been the first to teach him to enjoy this part of being a vampire. Before that, he'd tried to deny every part of his nature. In his first months, Edward had hated what he'd become, what Carlisle had made him, except when he ran. Running gave him joy, and that gave Carlisle joy, and together they had learned how to embrace just this part of the beast: the part that was playfully competitive with other, friendly males.

Later he'd learned to embrace other parts of the beast: things he'd witnessed in Volterra but didn't understand at the time. When male vampires lived together, establishing dominance was the only real way to maintain peace. When it had been just he and Edward, it hadn't been necessary. Edward had been so new to this life; he'd basically accepted Carlisle's leadership. And when there are only two, it's easier to rule by consensus, even with a moody seventeen-year-old. But as other males joined, establishing dominance became more necessary. The instincts were all there to be tapped into: the need to race, wrestle, pin, top. The more numerous the males, the stronger the drive.

Jasper fell behind, having inadvertently chosen a route that held more obstacles. Carlisle and Emmett wove through trees, neck and neck. It was beautiful: they were graceful, swift creatures, all muscle and energy and striving. Carlisle loved running like this. Then Emmett touched his hip, and entirely different instincts rose to the surface. In a flash, he turned and pounced on Emmett, pinning him to the ground and snarling. Then Jasper whipped past them.

"Fuck," Carlisle muttered under his breath, scrambling to take off after Jasper, who was laughing at his luck that the other two had distracted each other. In moments Carlisle was right behind him, reaching with both hands, striving forward, hooking his fingers around Jasper's narrow hips and heaving him to the right, only losing a few strides in the process.

And now they were all legs and hands and hips, racing, reaching for each other, pulling each other back, breaking away, laughing, snarling, pouncing. The outcrop was all but forgotten as they frolicked like young stallions, showing off strength and agility. All three were growing hard with the exertion and the allure of this wholly masculine dance. There was a line they crossed when they were like this. They ceased being men: civilized, cultured and well rounded. They became _males_, singular in their needs and desires. Musk filled the air, and Carlisle could distinguish between them by their scents and the rhythm of their movements: Emmett the stronger but more lumbering one, Jasper the smaller but fiercer competitor. All three of them were breathing hard as they raced and dodged, grasping for each other and twisting away, laughing and snarling.

Abruptly, all three heads snapped to the north at once, noses in the air. Prey.

They crouched in unison, and the mood had shifted from playful antics to serious hunting in seconds. They eyed each other, and all instincts were now trained on the prey. They didn't hunt in packs, but they coordinated their stalking. The others were looking to Carlisle to direct them, and he felt the rush of leadership: blood was on the air, and lust and testosterone flowed through his veins. It was not uncommon, when hunting, but it was usually stifled when the girls were around. Today, however, they weren't.

Carlisle adjusted himself without apology, and whispered instructions to the others: who would take the right and left flank of the herd, and who would drive down the center. They crept down the hill toward the herd, positioning themselves for the attack. Then Carlisle pounced, and the herd scattered.

He drank his first amidst the thundering hooves, taking long draws as he watched Jasper leap on a galloping doe and take it down. He was grace, power, masculinity: narrow hips and broad shoulders. Carlisle groaned as he watched Jasper's teeth slice through the neck. The sweet scent of fresh blood wafted on the air, and he thrust absently as he watched Jasper convulse at the taste. The expression on Jasper's face was ecstatic, and Carlisle felt his own lust surge. Hot, sweet blood continued to rush past his tongue as their eyes locked, and time slowed. Carlisle had lived through this moment in other hunts, where the lines between lust and bloodlust became blurred. He'd always stifled it. But he'd grown accustomed to allowing his fantasies free reign this weekend, and he did not try to hide the lust he felt as he admired Jasper's form and was intoxicated by the scent and taste of blood. Jasper's eyes rolled back, whether from the wave of lust he felt from Carlisle or the blood flowing down his throat, Carlisle couldn't be sure. But when Jasper's eyes reopened, they bore straight into Carlisle's. Jasper's sinewy muscles rippled as he adjusted his grip on the elk. He was strong and slight and well proportioned. A warrior: beautiful in his maleness. Abruptly, Carlisle's elk was dry, and he broke eye contact, pulling out of his haze enough to go after another prey.

He sped after the herd, striving, aching, needing blood, needing…

He pounced, and landed on a large buck, wresting its antlers to the right and bringing it down forcefully. It was so _vital_, pulsating and writhing under him as its fate was secured. Carlisle knelt, pulling the shoulder of the animal up onto his lap, where the warm, thrashing weight was a welcome burden against his throbbing cock. He lifted the head and sliced through the artery, groaning as the hot blood slid down his throat. His eyes closed as he savored the sensations.

He heard the cry of an elk being felled further down the valley — one of Emmett's kills — but the noise did not disturb him. He was pulled out of his feeding haze by the sound of thrashing much closer, and he opened his eyes to see Jasper with his arms wrapped around the antlers of a young buck, dragging it toward Carlisle. A growl rumbled in Carlisle's throat, a defensive reaction to another vampire approaching him as he drank. He quickly quelled the protective response. Jasper had his own buck; he wasn't going to try to steal Carlisle's kill. And the emotions pouring off Jasper included many things, but hostility wasn't among them. Still, Carlisle watched Jasper's approach warily. The younger man held his gaze, but with his head turned down just enough to show he was submissive. Was he offering his buck as a gift? Carlisle's buck went dry, and he tossed it aside as Jasper sat a mere two feet away, with his buck still twitching between them, touching both of them. Jasper held Carlisle's gaze, brought the neck of the elk up to his mouth and ripped it open.

Blood spurted across Carlisle's face and chest, and he stood abruptly, towering over Jasper's kneeling form, panting with surprise and tension. The smell of blood was thick on the air, and the heat of the drops splattered across his face seared his consciousness. But they held nowhere near the heat of Jasper's gaze, and Carlisle watched as his eyes grew impossibly darker. Jasper stood slowly, inching his face closer to Carlisle's, and then slowly licked up Carlisle's cheek from jaw to temple, cleaning the blood. They groaned in unison, and Carlisle closed his eyes, smelling the blood on Jasper's breath, the musk of his skin, and feeling the delicious slick heat of his tongue.

Carlisle felt blood-soaked hands stroke his jaw, slide to his collar, and slowly, sensually, tear his shirt open. Searing blood was painted on his neck and licked off as Carlisle stood rigid, his breathing labored, and red coloring the backs of his eyelids, the scent of blood and feeling of lust almost overwhelming him. His chest was painted hot and red, and licked clean. Then his hard abdomen was coated, Jasper carefully moving down his body, pushing Carlisle's limits infinitesimally each time he added blood.

Carlisle caught sight of Emmett standing by a fallen log fifteen feet away. He was half naked and stroking his cock as he watched Jasper licking Carlisle's belly. Emmett groaned softly, but seemed to know better than to come any closer. Carlisle closed his eyes again as hot, bloody fingers traced the line of hair extending from his belly button down to the edge of his pants, where they lingered. Toying licks dipped into his navel and moved lower. And every hot, wet swipe of blood, every cooler stroke of tongue brought Carlisle closer to the edge. Closer to demanding what he needed. And as the fingers trailed along the edge of his pants, teasing, asking permission, he just growled, "Do it."

His pants were gone; shreds of fabric floating to the forest floor. His cock, straining forward, was enveloped in hot slick fluid, and then pressure...

He looked down to see crimson smears on alabaster skin.

_Oh fuck! _

Jasper's blood-stained lips were sliding up and down Carlisle's shaft. His tongue was in constant motion, lapping up the blood he'd spread, even as his hands were reaching down to the wound to get more. Carlisle's cock was coated in hot blood, and then engulfed in cooler suction, over and over until Carlisle was sure he'd come. Jasper sucked hard on Carlisle's cock, moved his hot wet hand to cup Carlisle's sac. Carlisle growled a warning through his haze of pleasure. Jasper was treading a thin line between what Carlisle would enjoy, would _allow_, and what he wouldn't. Once more, Jasper coated both hands with blood and stroked Carlisle's cock and balls… and Carlisle was so close… _so close._ But this time when Jasper slid his mouth over Carlisle's cock, pushing the foreskin back with his lips and laving the sensitive tip with his tongue, he froze. For long seconds Jasper was rigid, and then he groaned around Carlisle's cock and gripped his hips tightly, moving against him with more force, thrusting into air, frenzied.

A growl ripped from Carlisle's throat, and his hand wrenched Jasper back by the scruff of his neck, pulled him off his cock and pushed him to the ground. He snarled for a moment as Jasper became very still, apparently recovering from whatever had possessed him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, placating Carlisle. "It was just… I tasted _you_ mixed with the blood, and the combination was too much."

"Jasper…" Carlisle growled. "Strip now."

Jasper wasn't inclined to argue; he was Carlisle's to command. It was a familiar thrill to exert his power, and Carlisle intended to see it through. Kneeling before Carlisle, naked and straining, Jasper looked up, silently asking to try again. Carlisle looked at him sternly, but closed his eyes in agreement. He felt the blood again, and Jasper's glorious mouth, but he was on edge, torn between the need to enjoy these sensations, and the need to exert his dominance. Jasper slowly pulled him back toward the precipice, and again Carlisle felt that he was close, when a twig snapped too close and his eyes flew open. Emmett was kneeling behind Jasper, reaching around him for the blood. Carlisle growled a warning, but Emmett was conciliatory.

"I'll prepare him for you," he said thickly, sliding two bloody fingers along the crack of Jasper's ass. Jasper arched, groaning around Carlisle's cock as a finger slid in. Carlisle watched Emmett's red fingers — first one, then two, and finally three — disappear into Jasper's ass. The anticipation was delicious. Jasper grew more excited, groaning and writhing, but maintaining careful control of his mouth around Carlisle.

Finally Emmett backed away, announcing that Jasper was ready. In a single motion, Jasper spun on his knees and Carlisle fell to his and they were aligned. Jasper was beautiful in his submission. It was long ago that any of them had truly challenged his dominance or leadership, but the instincts — to dominate, to placate — were still easily brought to the surface. Jasper pressed his own shoulders into the earth, ready, waiting. Carlisle let him wait, enjoying the little whimpers he made as Carlisle pressed against his opening without slipping in. Carlisle closed his eyes and curled his fingers around Jasper's hips as desire coiled around his spine. He pressed in slowly, savoring the squeeze as his cock pushed past the guardian muscle. And then he felt hot wet fingers at the top of _his own crack…_

Startled beyond reckoning, he'd thrown Emmett ten feet and against a tree before he even rationally understood what had happened. He was standing again, rigid and fucking hard and _really_ getting annoyed with the interruptions. Jasper was still in position, ass in the air, head turned so his cheek and shoulder were pressed into the earth as he looked up at Carlisle sideways. He wouldn't take his frustration out on Jasper.

"YOU," he snarled at Emmett, "HERE!" He pointed at the space next to Jasper's hip. A shocked Emmett scrambled back to him, stepping into position, eyes averted.

"Hands on the backs of your thighs," Carlisle commanded. Emmett complied, leaning back so his cock jutted forward.

Carlisle dropped to his knees again, reached behind him, and coated his hands in the hot blood that continued to pool like a heated fount. He spread the blood on Emmett's cock, watching it twitch as venom appeared at the tip. It was time to see what Jasper was talking about. He coated both hands with blood again, this time stroking more on Emmett's cock with his right hand, while relubricating Jasper's ass with his left. Emmett whimpered as Carlisle stroked his cock, and Jasper sighed, arching more deeply. They were both ready.

Carlisle lined himself up with Jasper again. He was in no mood to toy with the man. They all needed this. Carlisle pushed in slowly as both he and Jasper groaned. He was so tight, and the blood made him even hotter than he would have felt otherwise. After a long, luxurious slide in, Carlisle was fully sheathed in Jasper's heat. He waited, and felt Jasper arch more fully. He gave an experimental roll of his hips and Jasper groaned.

He turned his attention to Emmett, smearing the blood up and down his shaft.

"Don't you _fucking_ thrust at me, Emmett," Carlisle warned. Emmett shook his head, breathing heavily in anticipation. Carlisle wrapped his hand around the base of Emmett's cock, and slid his mouth over the tip.

The taste of the blood enhanced his senses. Everything felt better. Jasper's ass was slicker, tighter. He was harder, and so was Emmett, who was groaning, but _not _thrusting. Carlisle's thrusts were becoming harder, longer. And then he tasted Emmett's venom commingled with the blood, sweet with the tangy, cloying — these were the two flavors that drove vampires crazy, and for the first time, he was tasting them together. He groaned, sucking harder, and Carlisle's mind started spiraling downward as the tension at his spine spiraled upward. His thrusts grew frantic, almost brutal. His frenzy was building — the tastes, the smells of forest and men and blood, the sounds of slapping flesh and pants and groans. He was tensing, rising impossibly higher, and then hanging at the precipice for a long moment as his release became imminent. His rush out of himself was hard and violent as he cried out around Emmett's cock. A spray of white stars dazzled across his mind, and a scream echoed through the forest that he could only assume was his as he emptied himself into Jasper.

He recovered to find his head thrown back and his cock still sheathed deep in Jasper. Emmett was still in position next to him. Both men were trembling, but holding themselves very still. Carlisle pulled himself out and backed up against a tree, panting. He was sated; the others would sort themselves out.

He watched as they remained frozen in position for several seconds, as if making sure that he was really finished with them. Abruptly, they pounced on each other, grappling for position, exerting dominance. It was a toss up between these two. After a minute of wrestling, Jasper was sliding into Emmett's ass as Emmett stroked himself. Carlisle hand went to his own cock as he lazily watched the scene play out. They came together, howling into the dusky evening, and then fell onto the forest floor on their backs, legs and arms splayed, gasping for unneeded air.

Emmett recovered first. "We should do that _all _the time."

Jasper started laughing. "You weren't even under the influence of the blood and venom mixture. Christ, that's got to be what crack is like."

They all laughed, a feeling of camaraderie born of common, unusual experience warming between them, until Jasper threw a handful of leaves at Emmett in exasperation. "I can't _believe_ you tried to mount Carlisle. What in hell were you thinking?" he asked with a laugh.

"That he'd like it," Emmett answered.

Jasper's eyes bugged and he laughed incredulously. "You thought he'd like it? And you've lived _where_ exactly for the last seventy-odd years? You're lucky he didn't rip your arm off…"

"He liked it in the dungeon," Emmett insisted.

Carlisle found it amusing to watch them talk about him as if he weren't there. As if his sexuality wasn't well understood by both of them.

"He liked _Esme_ touching his ass. And the girls. Completely different, Emmett."

Emmett had no response, apparently, other than to throw leaves back at Jasper.

"Besides, you remember what Esme told us in the dungeon…" Jasper continued.

That piqued Carlisle's orgasm-addled brain. "What did she tell you?" he asked.

Emmett turned his head to look at Carlisle sheepishly, but it was Jasper who answered.

"Esme gave us clear instructions not to touch you in the dungeon, not even your chains. We could just touch the girls, who in turn could touch you. Esme was afraid that if one of _us_ touched you, it would pull you right out of your submissive mindset and something…well, something like this," he waved his hand, indicating what they'd just experienced, "would happen. Except with more chains being wrenched from rock. And that's not what she was going for."

Carlisle nodded thoughtfully, chuckling. "That's probably true. It would have pulled me out. It almost did, even when _she_ touched me, but I could see all of you, and then I smelled the latex. Oh, Emmett, in case I wasn't clear earlier: don't touch my ass."

Emmett grinned. "Got it. My bad. Sorry about that, Carlisle."

"And I'm sorry I threw you. But I think Jasper may be right: you are lucky I didn't do worse. I wasn't in the most rational state when you decided to push my limits."

Emmett shrugged. "No one got hurt, and it all worked out well enough," he said, causing both Carlisle and Jasper to laugh again.

As the laughter died away, Carlisle sighed. Jasper must have sensed Carlisle's regret, for he was immediately sitting up and studying Carlisle's face. "What's wrong?"

Carlisle shook his head, smiling slightly.

"Please, what is it?"

"We wasted the animal."

Jasper grinned wickedly. "I'm pretty sure I drank three-quarter's of that elk's blood…albeit mostly off your cock. We didn't waste much."

"And regardless, it was _completely_ worth it," Emmett added. "No guilt."

Carlisle chuckled, giving in. "No guilt," he agreed. "And it was an… _exceptional_ experience."

"No need to make it an isolated incident," Emmett said, wagging his eyebrows. Saucy boy. "Can't do it now, though. Eddie's probably waiting.

"Where _is_ Edward? I thought he was going to catch up with us."

"I'll show you," Jasper said, getting up and brushing off the leaves that were sticking to the dried blood. "Emmett can start cleaning up this terrible mess," he continued, kicking a piece of shredded clothing toward his brother, who caught it and threw it back wadded up like a snowball.

Jasper dodged the projectile and gave Carlisle a grin, nodding to the ridge. "We'll be heading this way."

They walked in companionable silence. Carlisle was thinking about how possessed he'd become. He hoped he hadn't hurt Jasper…

"Stop," Jasper said, laughing. "You should be completely blissed out and reveling in your dominance. Why am I getting all this doubt off you?"

Carlisle looked at him. "Did I hurt you?"

Jasper actually laughed. "No. You did not. I'm made of sterner stuff, Carlisle. I had fun. And I agree with Emmett: we should do that again sometime." He clapped Carlisle's shoulder, and pointed down the other side of the ridge with his other hand. "There's a stream that starts about 100 yards down the hill. Follow it, and you'll find Edward."

Carlisle nodded. "Thank you, Jasper. You took a risk approaching me the way you did, but I'm really glad you did."

Jasper smiled warmly. "We'll clean it up, and see you back at the house." He turned and walked away, and Carlisle walked in the opposite direction. Toward Edward.

* * *

><p><em>AN: One chapter left, and per the prompt, "meaningful sex", not these fun romps we've been having. Any guesses as to what's going on with the boys (Carlisle and Edward, that is)?<em>


	5. The Swimming Hole

**Chapter 5: The Swimming Hole**

_Carlisle x Edward; slash, epiphany_

* * *

><p>Carlisle made his way down the hillside, following the narrow creek as darkness fell through the forest. A surprising anticipation gripped him as he walked. He tried to remember the last time he and Edward had been alone together. Could it have been before the wedding? It had been far too long.<p>

He noticed what appeared to be a small clearing ahead through the vegetation, where faint shimmering light reached the forest floor. As he broke through the trees, he saw a deep, glassy pool. Moonlight played among the small ripples emanating from a figure treading water near the center of the pool. His alabaster skin seemed to glow faintly blue as it reflected the moonlight through the inky water, and Carlisle was struck again by just how beautiful Edward was. Truly, the man was one of the most beautiful creatures he'd met in his long existence, and he'd always thought so.

He paused at the bank, noting how clean and tranquil Edward looked. Blood and grime covered his own frame, and he felt oddly sullied. Again.

"Come on in, old man…the water's fine." Edward smirked as he took in the state of Carlisle, tutting his disapproval. "You don't usually have such a hard time hunting, Carlisle."

Carlisle sent a reproachful splash in Edward's direction as he entered the pool laughing, but Edward had already ducked under the water. Carlisle chuckled, shaking his head at himself. He'd learned long ago not to engage in a splash fight with a mind reader. He dove under the water and resurfaced on his back, admiring the full moon as he lazily swam toward Edward. The moon was still rather low and seemed large and clear, a canvas of shadow and light, surrounded by multitudes of subtly colored stars. He sighed happily as he slowed, sensing Edward in the water just behind him.

"That's a sound we haven't heard in a while," Edward said softly. Carlisle looked up at Edward's face.

_What haven't you heard in a while?_

"A content Carlisle."

He chuckled, and then sighed again. Edward brushed his thumb across Carlisle's cheek and then showed him the smeared blood now staining the pad.

"You look like an appetizer," he laughed.

"That's just what Jasper thought," Carlisle answered, and then gave Edward a wicked look. Edward rolled his eyes and shook his head, grinning.

"Nonetheless, let's get you cleaned up," he said, showing Carlisle a small plastic vial in his palm. Carlisle treaded water and turned toward Edward as he poured thick, fragrant liquid onto his hand.

_What's that?_

"Biodegradable soap…backpackers use it. It probably won't leave your hair as shiny as the stuff Esme buys for you," Carlisle snorted, and then turned in the direction Edward indicated, with his back toward the younger man, "but it will get you clean, and it's safe to use out here."

Edward handed him the vial, and Carlisle groaned contentedly as Edward's hands massaged the soap into his hair. He poured some onto his own hand and scrubbed his face and body. It smelled good, almost like rain. Carlisle allowed himself to sink under the water, rinsing his face as Edward's hands continued to rake through his hair, clearing the soap from it and massaging his scalp. He continued running his fingers along Carlisle's neck and shoulders, even when his head broke the surface of the water. It was a simple contact, a bonding they'd shared for decades. It was comfortable, secure, and he leaned into the touch, sighing contentedly.

"So you and Bella are my caretakers this weekend, are you?" Carlisle asked, remembering how Bella had washed and massaged him earlier that day.

Edward smirked. "And did she take good care of you, Carlisle?"

Carlisle had a moment of uncertainty, wondering if Edward knew the _details_ of what he'd shared with Bella, if it would be awkward for him to discuss what he'd done to Edward's wife… mate…

Edward shook his head, smiling. "It's great, Carlisle. I'm glad the two of you are bonding. I want you to be close."

"Well, then, she took _very_ good care of me." Edward barked out a laugh. "As I'm sure you know, you are a lucky man."

"That I am," Edward answered seriously, continuing to rub Carlisle's shoulders.

"And I am, too," Carlisle added. "I can't believe that Esme arranged this entire intervention, as she calls it. I didn't even realize how bad I'd gotten, but clearly, to take on something so involved, you all must have been worried." Carlisle turned to face Edward, and the younger man's hands fell away as they both tread water a few feet from each other. "You too, Edward. You are so generous with me. You always have been; I'm very lucky to have you. This weekend _had_ to be your doing. Every one of my darkest fantasies, deepest secret desires… I've discussed most of these vaguely with Esme, but the details — you must have taken them directly from my thoughts and memories. The Volturi dungeon was perfect in every detail, and my study, and the hunting trip in the forest…" Carlisle reached out and touched Edward's arm, needing to physically show his gratitude. "I don't know what made you want to do it, but it's been incredible." And it had been. It had been so satisfying, exploring each of those forbidden pleasures. He felt completely focused now on the people who mattered most to him, Edward and Esme most of all.

"We all worked together, but yes, I supplied a lot of the details. It's been fun, planning everything. We all just wanted to show you how much we appreciate you, what you mean to all of us. We've missed you."

Carlisle took in Edward's serious expression. "I'm sorry," he said, brushing Edward's hair from his brow. "I didn't mean to neglect you all."

"We're just glad to have you back."

They looked at each other for a long moment, and Carlisle felt time stretching out before him, remembering all the other times they'd shared together. Edward, his oldest friend, was here with him again, such a constant in his life. But there was also a niggling in the back of his mind… something he'd tried to deny. An ache that he'd tried to bury with work, with business. Carlisle suddenly had the urge to pull him in closer and kiss him, but he still didn't understand where they were. Each previous scene had come straight out of his own fantasies, though he'd hadn't been sure of that pattern at first. This scene tugged oddly at his memory, but it didn't fit any of his fantasies.

"No, this is one of mine."

Carlisle raised an eyebrow, waiting for Edward to continue. He watched as his oldest friend took a deep breath, and a look of awkward insecurity crossed his face. Carlisle couldn't think of the last time he'd seen such an expression grace Edward's features.

Carlisle moved closer and brushed Edward's cheek softly. "Surely you aren't embarrassed to share a fantasy with me, after everything you've seen in _my_ mind."

Edward paused for just a moment, and then nodded at their surroundings. "This place reminds me of the swim hole near the farmhouse outside Chicago. Do you remember it?"

"Of course."

"Do you remember our first time there together?"

Carlisle swallowed and nodded. "You'd played for me all morning. All my favorites. And then we went hunting…"

"And you got messy. Though not as messy as you were today," Edward laughed quietly.

"And you said you had an idea, and the next thing I knew you were stripping on the bank of that little pool and diving in."

"You looked so shocked. I didn't think you'd follow me in," Edward said, shaking his head at the memory. "But then, you were right there in the water with me… in all your glory."

Carlisle snorted softly, but all traces of humor evaporated as the silence between them thickened, and Carlisle remembered everything he'd felt that day. They'd been together for almost a year, and their future together was uncertain. They'd discussed nothing beyond the year of training, and both were dreading the change its close brought. Carlisle looked around him at the stars and forest, and remembered the insecurity, dread, and longing he'd felt… and he realized how familiar it was. He'd been feeling those same things the last several months.

"I wanted you so badly," Edward whispered, interrupting his thoughts.

"Oh, Edward," he sighed, cupping his face. "I wanted you, too; you know I did." _Surely you saw it. But you were so innocent…_

Edward looked away, the pain fresh on his face as if the rejection had _just__ now_ stung him. It was a curse of perfect memory. "Bella — "he started.

"— was _playing_ an innocent, but wasn't one. If she truly had been innocent, Edward, I could have _never_ taken her as I did. I wanted you, but you _were_ innocent, and in many ways I was, too. I didn't know the repercussions, what might happen to us if we followed that path. And if we had, we would have never found the others: Esme and Bella. Surely you don't wish —"

"No, of course not," Edward reassured. "I've never been happier. Truly. And though I knew that Esme completed you in a way that I never did, I didn't really understand it until Bella came along." Frustration and self-loathing marred his face. "I don't know why my mind keeps returning to this moment… why I want… I want…"

_To __know__ what __it__ would__ have __been __like __if__ I__ had__ followed__ my __desires,__ and__ touched __you__ that__ day?_ Carlisle asked, placing a hand on Edward's hip and circling the protruding bone with his thumb, just as he'd wanted to all those decades ago.

"Yes," Edward cried out, eyes closing momentarily. And though Carlisle had no gift he'd acknowledge, he could feel the waves of desire pouring off Edward. They were so close, treading water amidst moon-kissed ripples, breathing each other's air. Edward was beautiful: lean and muscular and subtly masculine, forever on the cusp of manhood. His body was unchanged, and Carlisle found it as appealing as he ever had. But his face was different, and the change made Carlisle begin to understand the fear that he'd been trying to deny since the wedding planning had begun — since Edward had come, proud, to tell him that Bella had accepted his offer of marriage.

His Edward, and yet no longer. He was no longer the insecure boy who had wanted Carlisle that Illinois summer's eve. He was a man; his face showed it in its every expression. He was confident, experienced, extremely sexy, and… independent. That was what had been gnawing at Carlisle's subconscious for months.

"What?" Edward whispered, moving closer and coiling his fingers into Carlisle's hair, forcing him to look directly into the young man's eyes. Edward's gaze searched his face, trying to make sense of the insecurity he'd hidden so well. "Carlisle, please…"

Carlisle swallowed and shifted slightly, feeling their cocks brush against each other in the process. He watched Edward's eyes shift darker as a groan escaped the young man's lips, but Edward was undeterred, and Carlisle knew, too, that this was important for them to sort out.

"I think I know why your mind keeps returning to this moment. I've been trying to deny it, but I've been sensing a change in our dynamic." Carlisle took a deep breath, bracing himself. "You're mated now."

"Yes," Edward answered, confused by the obvious statement.

"You're showing more independence. You come to me less and less for advice or even to talk. It would be natural for you and Bella to want —"

"You're sending me away," came his shocked whisper. "Us. You're sending us —"

"No!" Carlisle was gripped by an urgency bordering on panic. He coiled his own fingers though Edward's hair and rubbed his forehead on Edward's, wanting an intimate contact, but fearing to kiss. "No, Edward. It nearly killed me when you left before. But I would understand if _you_ wanted to… all the others had time alone with their mates after their wedding. I sense a change in you… like, you've caught up. We were equals for a few years, when we were in Chicago and the first years in Wisconsin. We weren't mates, but we loved each other, and we, we could have…"

"…been lovers," Edward finished. "We could have been lovers, but in this moment," Edward motioned around the swim hole, "you chose not to let that happen, and I chose not to push it."

Carlisle nodded, swallowing thickly, and realizing how irrevocable that decision had seemed for so long.

"And then I mated with Esme, the dynamic… our dynamic changed," he whispered into the night.

Edward nodded slowly, understanding illuminating his features. "I became the son, the one with less experience. But now I'm mated, too." Edward paused, and Carlisle saw a light shimmer in his eyes. "I'm mated, and we're equals again…"

His voice trailed off, and he looked around the pool and forest, clearly remembering the old swimming hole, and the decision they'd made all those years ago. Their hands were still linked in each other's hair; their faces were mere inches apart. They hadn't moved any closer, or any further apart, but emotionally… emotionally there was movement. Carlisle just couldn't be sure of the direction yet. Edward looked straight into his eyes, whispering thickly. "We're equals again."

Carlisle nodded. He couldn't deny it. _Wouldn__'__t _deny it. Whether or not Carlisle was the leader of the group, he always had considered Edward his equal, perhaps not in experience, but in everything else. And in many respects, he regarded Edward as his better: more generous in the ways that were most important, more understanding despite being exposed to people's every worst thought.

"I understand you so much better than I did then, and I love you just as much as I ever have." Edward's whisper was so soft, it was almost absorbed by the air before it reached him.

Carlisle was silent, afraid to breathe, almost afraid to think as Edward's implication took root in his mind. Carlisle had assumed that Edward's growing independence would mean a distancing between them, that their relationship would become more like the one he shared with Emmett or Jasper. He had feared losing the depth of understanding and love they shared. But what if the opposite were true? Esme would welcome it, he knew. She'd encouraged him for decades to follow his love. Esme claimed that vampire hearts were as expanded as their minds. Yes, Esme would welcome it, but Edward's new bride…

"Bella knows," Edward whispered, placing his hand on Carlisle's hip and making it almost impossible for him to think clearly.

_Knows __what?_ Carlisle switched to thought, finding his words thick in his throat.

"That her love makes me soar, and yours keeps me grounded, and that I need both. She knows I need both of you. That's part of the reason she wanted time alone with you this weekend. She knows how important you are to me. She knows, and she wants to encourage it, be part of it."

Carlisle shuddered, and Edward tightened his grip slightly. A quiver started deep in Carlisle's belly as the truth of the statement sunk in.

_It's the same for me. I was half a man when you were gone. Part of me wanted to claim you thoroughly when you finally returned, to do everything I could to keep you from leaving again, but it would have been so unfair. I'm not your mate; I could never have been what you deserved. Esme knew. She encouraged me to share my feelings, and if we'd decided to become lovers, she would have encouraged that as well. She'd been so worried for both of us._

"Esme's more open-minded than either of us gave her credit for in the beginning."

_That's the truth. This weekend shows the lengths she'll go to — that you'll both go to — for my well-being. _

Now both of Edward's hands were on Carlisle hips, and his thumbs were sending chills along his skin with their small caresses. He was so hard, and he wanted Edward so badly; it really was like that first time in the swim hole.

"It's better," Edward whispered, almost touching Carlisle's lips. "It's better: we know more, we're both loved, and you should _really_ touch me now."

_I_ have _touched__ you __before, __if__ you__'__ll __recall._

"As a vampire," Edward whispered, stroking Carlisle's hips with more confidence. "Exerting dominance, or coven bonding. Never as a lover… never as an equal."

Carlisle shuddered again and felt his hipbones move against Edward's palms. He heard Edward groan in response and felt Edward's forehead against his own. Carlisle held himself stiff, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. Edward's scent and breath and warmth and touch were all overwhelming him, and he could barely contain his desire to kiss, to taste…

Edward trembled, and the tension between them heightened again. "Carlisle, why are you still holding back?" Edward whispered. Carlisle had no answer, save habit. "Are you worried about the others? How this will affect the family dynamics?"

_No._ Carlisle knew that the form and bonds of the family shifted over time, changing shape, ebbing and flowing. The others would get used to this, if he and Edward chose it.

"Are you worried about the girls? Do you want to speak with Esme or Bella first?"

Carlisle was confident he knew what Esme's answer would be. If Edward was sure about Bella's answer…

"I am."

_Then, no. I'm not worried about them._

"Then what?" Edward asked gently, following the question with a quick, light kiss. Even that small touch seared Carlisle's lips.

_I won't be able to stop._

Edward smiled against his lips, and when he spoke, the words became soft, chaste kisses. "I won't ask you to. I've loved you for almost a century, Carlisle. I've loved you when you didn't know what to do with me, and when you let me drag you into speakeasies to listen to jazz, and when you found your mate, and when I couldn't stand your rules, and when your rules seemed like salvation. I've loved you when you were a friend, and a brother, and a father. It is one of the deepest, most enduring loves of my life, as I know it is for you." Carlisle nodded. It was all true on his side, too. "Touch me, love," Edward whispered, and Carlisle felt Edward's lips touch his again in a firm, gentle, patient kiss. They had both been patient with each other for so long; the time for it was over. And as he had wanted to all those years ago, Carlisle dragged his fingers from Edwards hip inward, and wrapped his fingers around Edward's long, thick cock.

They groaned in unison, and Carlisle didn't even think before he slipped his tongue into Edward's mouth, where it was met by a long, delicious slide of Edward's. Carlisle stroked Edward's shaft experimentally, gauging its weight and length and thickness. And it was perfect. So perfect. And all the more so because it was _Edward_, of whom he'd dreamt for decades. And this moment could only be more perfect if Edward were touching him, too. And then he was, and all senses were focused on the gliding of tongues and the sliding of palms along shafts and the gentle gasps of long overdue discoveries. Edward's mouth pressed onto his, passionate and perfect. Every fantasy he'd ever harbored and hidden from Edward ran through Carlisle's mind as they kissed and explored each other.

Edward groaned as he witnessed just how deeply Carlisle had longed for him over the years. He wrapped an arm around Carlisle's waist, pulling the older man closer still as he registered every yearning: the desire to touch, to taste, to fill, to be filled… Edward gasped and pulled back, searching Carlisle's face and thoughts.

"You want that?"

"With you, I want everything."

"But you never let any of us near you. Anyone but Esme…"

"That's to do with dominance. But with you, I want everything," Carlisle repeated. He watched Edward grow very still and close his eyes. After a moment Carlisle grew fearful that Edward would see his admission as a weakness, and that he only wanted to see Carlisle as a strong leader, as a…

Edward's mouth crashed onto his, and Carlisle felt himself being hugged tightly and pulled toward the edge of the pool. The shallow water was slightly warmer, and Carlisle relaxed into the shore as Edward laid him back, kissing his chest and his belly while hands explored further down. His legs spread automatically as Edward cupped his sacs, exploring the firm skin behind them, and circling his hole. And Carlisle was amazed that he felt not the least bit threatened. His love and trust for Edward was so complete that none of the defensive posturing he'd exhibited earlier came to the surface. He was open, so open to anything Edward wanted. He felt Edward's tongue stroke his shaft, and then his balls, and then finally work its way further back, until tongue and fingers were probing his ass, warming and stretching him, preparing him for a lover.

Carlisle groaned at the thought and coiled his fingers through Edward's hair.

_I'm ready… I'm ready…_

"No, you're not, love. I'm bigger than Esme's toy. Soon," Edward promised, working two fingers into his ass and lightly kissing his cock. Carlisle groaned and attempted patience, but after decades of denial, waiting a few more minutes felt agonizing. And yet, with all the titillation and sexual exploration he'd experienced over the weekend, _this_ was the touch that was rocking him to his core, changing his being in a way that was clearly permanent.

He wanted to prolong it, savor it.

This was _Edward_, worshipping him and preparing him for his own pleasure. Carlisle nearly came from the thought of it, and then again when Edward groaned around his cock and curled the fingers in his ass _just __so_. And unlike the last time a tongue had explored him, Carlisle was thoroughly and intensely aware of his surroundings. Intensely aware of each piece of gravel on the shore pressing into his back, every place Edward's welcome weight bore down on him, every touch, every breath, each star, the smell of the trees. He savored every sensation, and fought against the impending climax and oblivion. He did not want to drift away on sensation. Edward he loved, and he had never been so ready to feel every aspect of that love. Just when it nearly became too much, Edward was hovering over him, and the blunt head of his cock pressed against Carlisle's opening, his breath coming heavily against Carlisle's neck as he heard, "Are you sure? Are you sure, Carlisle?"

A white, blazing _YES!_ scorched Carlisle's mind, and Edward pushed in, filling him, stretching and completing him in a way he'd never felt. Never so full. Never so warm. Never so…

_Edward…Edward…Edward…_

as lips crashed onto his, and there were no trees, no gravel, no water. There was only Edward thrusting in and out of him, covering him, kissing him, growing harder, thrusting faster. A cry pierced the night, and Carlisle didn't know if it was his voice or Edward's. Bright light enveloped his mind as hot lines seared the skin of his belly and his deepest channel, and breath started again, gasping, and then slowing, and then shuddering in unison. Carlisle reached blindly up for Edward, wrapping arms around his shoulders and pulling him to his chest. He felt Edward's shaft slip out of him but didn't care. He buried his nose in Edward's wild waves, and smelled the joy and deep satisfaction. They clung to each other for many long minutes, and when Edward began to rise, Carlisle pulled him back down on top of him.

_Not yet… not yet…_

Edward smiled and left a light kiss on Carlisle's lips before sinking back down onto his chest, sighing contentedly.

"We'll need to wash eventually," he whispered.

_Not __yet._ Carlisle wrapped his arms firmly over Edward's shoulders as if daring him to get loose. His mind spiraled dazedly from one joyous thought to another, content at every turn.

Carlisle may have lain there all night, if it weren't for the second shooting star in five minutes.

_Is there a meteor shower tonight?_

"I'm sorry, was that a coherent thought I heard?"

Carlisle chuckled and halfheartedly slapped Edward on the back of the head, which Edward might have ducked, if he weren't lowering his mouth onto Carlisle's.

Carlisle groaned and wondered why there was no swimming hole at the property in Forks.

"Perseids," Edward said, after ending the kiss. "And because the terrain is too steep. Come on, Carlisle," he said, pulling Carlisle up by the arms and leading him back into the pool. "We need to wash and get dressed. It's time to go." But when they reached the center of the pool again, Edward seemed to be in less of a hurry. He washed them both, and then wrapped his arms around Carlisle, kissing him lazily. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly as he ended the kiss.

"Yes. Perfect. Better than I've been in a really, _really_ long time. Are you sure we don't have time for more? Because I think it's my turn."

"As tempting as that is," Edward said laughing and leading Carlisle out of the pool and toward two towels hanging from a tree, "I think we've left the girls waiting long enough. But don't worry; we'll be doing this _very_ often."

"The girls are waiting for us?" Carlisle asked as he dried and started putting on the clothes he found on a stump. "Are you sure that Bella will be happy with this situation?"

Edward snorted. "I can't read Bella's mind, so we've taken it upon ourselves to discuss our sexual fantasies in detail. I hadn't planned on what happened between us," he said, motioning between Carlisle and himself, "but she won't be surprised. She knows me better than I know myself, I think."

Carlisle laughed. "Esme certainly knows me better than I know myself."

"Besides, she has her own plans for you." Edward said, laughing. "I know several of her 'daddy fetish' fantasies about you…"

_There are more?_

Edward smirked. "In at least two, she plans to dress in a Catholic school uniform…"

"Oh, sweet mother of…"

"And then there are the fantasies involving both you and me," Edward continued. Carlisle raised an eyebrow. "She wants to watch you take me."

"Oh, fuck…"

"And she wants us both to take her."

Carlisle closed his eyes, overwhelmed by an image of Bella stretched out on his desk, legs spread with Edward in her cunt and himself in her mouth…

"Yes, that's the general idea, I think."

Carlisle's cock twitched.

"And that was my reaction as well. Esme is invited to participate, if she wishes to…"

And now the image included another set of hands tweaking Bella's breasts, and an intricate pattern of ropes and knots spread across Bella's body and arms.

"Interesting. Do you think Esme would enjoy it?" Edward asked as he finished dressing.

Carlisle paused as buttoned his shirt and tucked it into some rather old fashioned pants.

"Do I think that Esme would sexually enjoy the girl who let me tie her up with a _t-shirt_?" he asked incredulously. "Yes, I think they will get on splendidly, and will likely teach each other many things."

Edward laughed and threw both towels over one arm as he wrapped the other over Carlisle's shoulder and led him up a hill. "Well, that should keep things interesting." Edward coiled his fingers through Carlisle's hair as they walked, maintaining affectionate touches, and Carlisle almost purred with happiness. Edward wasn't leaving. He and Bella were happy with the family, and wanted to be even closer with Carlisle and Esme. It was more than he could have ever dreamed possible.

"I'm sorry I made you worry," Edward said, squeezing Carlisle's shoulder. "I was never leaving, but I agree, this turn of events is very welcome."

Carlisle shook his head, musing. "_I__'__m_ sorry I couldn't articulate my fear and just _talk_ to you about it." He wrapped an arm around Edward's back and hung it on his far shoulder, mimicking Edward's hold on him. "I think maybe we were both so excited to welcome Bella to the family, we just didn't register the changes that were happening between us until they'd piled up enough to be noticed. I wanted to pretend nothing was wrong, so I threw myself into work."

"Like you always do," Edward added, with a knowing grin.

"Yes, like I always do," Carlisle huffed, running his hands through his hair as they continued to walk, arm in arm.

"It's part of your charm, Carlisle," Edward laughed. "We only mind when it gets out of hand." Edward froze abruptly, and Carlisle froze next to him.

_What's wrong?_

But Edward only lifted his eyes to the heavens, obviously frustrated by some revelation. They must have been close enough to the house for him to pick up someone's thoughts.

"Esme knew. The whole time. She told me that we would use this weekend to clear your mind so you could see what was in front of you. I thought she meant your ties to your family, but now I think she meant me… us." He paused for a moment, listening. "Yes. And Bella was in on it, too. The three of us have been planning this weekend together as if it were for you, but all along, they were planning it for both of us, behind my back."

"Well, then we both owe them a debt. Did Alice know?"

"Probably, but she hid it, too. The little minx. They're all minxes; now our wives are conspiring again. I can hear them… They're very pleased with themselves, and they're planning… wait, they're gone." Carlisle saw the irritation burn in his eyes. "Bella is using her shield to keep me out of their conversation."

Carlisle couldn't help the amusement that seeped into his voice. "And what were they conspiring about?"

Edward looked at the ground for a moment, and then looked back up into Carlisle's eyes, biting back a smirk. "Thin red ropes. And your study."

Carlisle's laughter bubbled up. "Well, considering how well they did this weekend, I'm inclined to let them conspire all they want. Don't try to control everything, Edward. That's one of the first rules of marriage."

"Says the man with a titanium-reinforced play-van."

"Exactly. Which I have because my wife conspires…" Carlisle said with a gleam.

Edward sighed dramatically and conceded defeat, allowing himself to be led down a hill toward the waiting house and familiar black van.

Carlisle recognized the house now: a 'fixer upper' in the southwestern Cascades that Esme had purchased a little over a year ago. She really _had_ been working on several remodeling projects, just as she'd told him. Carlisle wondered if the house were finished…

"Why, do you have ideas for it?" Edward asked, raising an eyebrow.

Carlisle chuckled. "Well, Esme is the artist," he said. "I wouldn't want to interfere with her process."

Edward waved toward the van, and Carlisle turned to see Bella standing alone by the passenger door. She skipped a little as they approached, and threw herself into Edward's arms.

"Hi, baby," he whispered as he kissed her, lifting her feet off the ground. She kissed him back thoroughly and Carlisle could hear the conversation that was whispered between their kisses.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"Yes. How did you know?"

"Pfft. We're your wives, of course we knew… silly boys…"

Bella ended the kiss and turned to Carlisle while still deep in Edward's embrace.

"And you, Carlisle? Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you," he answered, smiling. "Thank you for everything. Where's Esme?" He was feeling a bit jealous that he wasn't being greeted by his mate in such a fashion.

"In the back, waiting," Bella said. Edward whispered something faint, and Bella murmured, "by the door." Then she disentangled herself from Edward and turned to Carlisle, kissing him on the cheek. "Have a pleasant ride home, Carlisle, see you in a few hours."

Carlisle gave her a quick hug and then let Edward turn him and take him to the double doors in the back of the van. Carlisle took a deep breath, preparing himself mentally for the playroom that he didn't actually want right now… he just wanted Esme. When they reached the back of the van, Edward handed him a bouquet of roses that had been sitting by the door.

_What __are __these __for?_

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose. "In the entirety of our lives together, whenever I've handed you flowers, whom have they been for?"

_Esme._ Carlisle tried to imagine handing old world roses to a black-leather-stiletto-boot-clad Esme… would she set down the flogger when she took them?

Edward smirked and opened the door. There were no tools on the wall, and though he was relieved, Carlisle felt a pang of regret that the van had been made over already.

"It hasn't. That one is already on its way to its storage unit in Port Angeles. The rest of the family is playing "Volturi Dungeon" on the way home. Let's hope Aro never finds out." Carlisle bit back a chuckle. "This one is more flexible in its interior design potential, or so I'm told."

Carlisle surveyed the white Christmas lights that adorned the ceiling, casting a faint glow that approximated candlelight onto the sheer fabric draped from the four-poster bed in the center of the van. It was her bed from Ashland, and the little nightstand with an empty vase for the flowers. Though he couldn't see her clearly from his angle, he knew Esme would be lying amongst the white linens and pillows on the bed.

"It's not wood," Edward said as Carlisle studied the bed, promising himself to be more careful, and not ruin this one.

_It looks like the same wood…_

"It's wood veneer."

_Over…_

Edward smirked as Carlisle finally noticed the faint smell of titanium mingling with the wood and Esme's subtle perfume. Carlisle took the flowers and climbed into the van, turning back to Edward once inside.

"Drive slowly, Edward." He said seriously.

Edward smiled and nodded at him, closing the door. By the faint glow of the tiny lights, Carlisle made his way to the nightstand. It was cleverly secured to the wall of the van in a nearly invisible way, and Carlisle smiled at the attention to detail that Esme exhibited in every effort she made for him. She was his artist. He placed all the flowers in the crystal, save one. He turned and looked at Esme through the filmy curtain, remembering all the times in that first year together he'd looked at her through similar gauze. She was so beautiful, lying in a perfect replica of her champagne colored dress from 1921, and he realized that his shirt and pants were from a similar era. The diaphanous fabric was as sheer as a bridal veil, and he remembered before they were married, longing for her, afraid to tell her what was in his heart. But she had long since made a brave man of him.

"Esme?"

She turned her head, her expression open. Carlisle parted the filmy curtains and sat on the bed inside the thin silk cocoon. It felt private, though with Edward around, nothing was private, and he smiled as he realized that thought was now comforting.

"Carlisle?" she asked softly. "Is everything alright?"

"Perfect. So perfect. I was only wondering," he said, dragging the rose lightly along her hairline.

"Wondering?" she whispered.

"If you have any idea of all the very many ways I love you…"

Esme smiled, shifting her position so he could lie next to her. Her face was comforting and wise and beautiful, and she looked… almost proud of him.

"Tell me."

Carlisle plucked a petal off the rose, and stroked her skin from her hairline, down her brow, and to the tip of her nose, and then kissed it.

"One…"

* * *

><p><em>AN: That's it. Kinky porn without plot, but I hope not without a bit of a journey and some significance. It's all HEA, and I'm sure these four have many adventures ahead. And I'm sure all eight will play "Volturi Dungeon" again. (Shhh. Don't tell Aro.)<em>

_I want to thank everyone who reviewed the story as I posted it. It helped stoke my courage to get the positive feedback. I hope the original prompter is still happy with the story, and I want to thank her and the TwiKinkFest moderators again for the inspiration._

_Most especially, however, I'd like to thank StormDragonfly, who has reviewed each chapter at least twice, on short notice, and has made the story so much better. This is my first real foray into writing lemons (and writing in third person), and she helped me with both: maintaining emotional content, and keeping the sex from sounding like "insert tab A into slot B." She's a gem, and a good friend. _

_I hope you all enjoyed the ride._

_Oh, I'm marking Intervention as complete, but I'm not ruling out the idea of a future take or two, so if you like, put it on story alert. No promises, and it won't be for a while, but these little scenes flash in my head... and that's always how it starts.  
><em>


	6. Home

_AN. My dear fanfriend Zoya Zalan is having a birthday. She was the first one to teach me about joys of polyamorous Cullens. She always saw chemistry between my Carlisle and Edward, even in my canon fics, where I **swear** none occurs. She beta'd my first foray into C/E slash, and she loved Intervention so much she brought it to the attention of the Perv Pack's Smut Shack, who did a lovely feature on it, including some VERY sexy images (www . pervpackssmutshack . com / 2012 / 02 / team-anything-goes-intervention-by . html?zx=8057aba0143c4c7). It's worth looking at, if for no other reason than to see the sexy gifs. Zoya's also my musical guru for Prelude in C, and taught me the joys of Chopin's Etudes, Scarlatti, and Satie. This additional chapter is dedicated to her, for her birthday, and for her love of my boys and their music. My friend StormDragonfly, who is another incomparable writer and friend, beta'd and encouraged me. _

* * *

><p>From Chapter 5: <em>Edward…washed them both, and then wrapped his arms around Carlisle, kissing him lazily. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly as he ended the kiss.<em>

_"Yes. Perfect. Better than I've been in a really, really long time. Are you sure we don't have time for more? Because I think it's my turn."_

* * *

><p>Chapter 6: Home<p>

In the back of the van, in the beautiful bed that conjured memories thick and wistful, Carlisle and Esme made love over and over. Between the swells of bliss, Esme told him about Bella approaching her, worried that Edward needed more than a wife. Bella and Esme were both so attuned to their mates… more than he and Edward were, he was afraid. Together, they had hatched the plan to encourage their men to explore desires they'd held for decades. Together the girls considered how the two couples might exist in a more integrated way. Bella had wanted time alone with Carlisle, to strengthen the bond between the couples, but she'd been horribly intimidated. She saw Esme as the epitome of beauty and feminine power. It had been Esme who had encouraged her to play to her strengths: her youth, her apparent innocence, her natural submissiveness. They'd carved a niche for Bella in his sexual life that would not pit her against Esme. A niche that complemented his stunning, experienced, powerful wife. They were each beautiful in entirely different ways, and were able to enjoy their strengths without feeling jealousy. It was a beautiful thing, actually.

When they arrived home, Esme and Carlisle were sated and content, but Bella and Edward, stuck in the cab driving, needed a bit of time to themselves. They retired to the cottage, and were not seen for two days. The others arrived at the house, and life continued on for several days. One might not have even been aware that a huge shift had occurred in the family, except that they all knew it had. Movie night was excruciating. Carlisle sat on the sofa. Edward sat beside him, and twenty minutes into the film, he felt Edward's pinky finger glide lightly against his own, comforting, teasing, and full of promise. Bella sat on Edward's lap, but slowly stretched her legs so that her feet rested on Carlisle's thighs. Esme was tucked under Carlisle's arm to his right, her left hand drawing lazy circles on his hip, and her right reached across his lap to caress Bella's ankle, making her squirm deliciously. For two hours he savored all the sensations, all their touches, wishing he could just start stripping the three of them. When the movie was over, Jasper grabbed Alice and blurred up the stairs. They could hear fabric tearing as they said their goodnights, Emmett looking very confused and Rosalie looking a bit exasperated.

Carlisle fucked Esme hard and deep that night, grateful for the new, sturdy bed. He could hear Emmett and Jasper doing the same with their mates, and had no doubt as to what was happening in the cottage.

On the fourth day, after a long shift at the hospital, Carlisle finally went to his study and closed the door. Bella had said that she'd hidden something in here, and his curiosity could no longer be contained. Her scent was faint and diffuse in the room, and many others had come in since. It took him over an hour to find the picture carefully placed in his hardback copy of The History of the Roman Catholic Church: a close up of a girl in a short tartan skirt, bent over a desk, her ass and waxed pussy just visible where the hem of the skirt rode up, her hands bound together behind her.

He palmed himself, sinking into the plush leather chair. He studied the hands, the curve of the ass, and the edge of the desk. Unlike the two she'd shown him over the weekend, this picture had no facial view; it was a close up below the waist. And yet there was a familiarity to it, and it occurred to Carlisle that where the others had clearly been "found" photos from the internet or similar source, this one might actually be Bella herself, on _his_ desk. He groaned, placing more pressure against his hardening cock.

She really was a tease. And yet, he knew enough now to know the picture was a promise. Something she wanted. So this wasn't teasing. Not really. It was foreplay.

And of course, if the picture _were_ Bella, that begged the question of who had taken it? Who had dressed her, tied her, posed her, and photographed her, all before last weekend's explorations. He knew Bella had fantasies that involved all four of them. Studying the picture again, he was almost sure that the knots were Esme's — he was certainly familiar enough with her work — and a delicious coil ran up his spine imagining _that_ little meeting: Esme manipulating Bella's lithe body, bending her over, tying her up. He wondered if Edward knew of _this_ conspiring between the girls. He wished he could have watched… that they both could have watched. He was sure that Edward would find it as appealing as he did.

He groaned and adjusted himself, and decided _not_ to act on the temptation to lay the three photos out on the desk and masturbate. There would be time for all four of them to explore each other. He wanted to savor the anticipation. Of course, part of him wanted to find Esme and see if he could seduce the information from her… have her describe the scene, describe the knots she had used on Bella as he peeled her out of her clothes. Or perhaps Edward already knew, and he could be enticed to share. Carlisle could think of many things he wanted to do to Edward. They hadn't had nearly enough time after their revelation, and he hadn't seen him much since. Between Edward and Bella's time in the cottage and his at the hospital, there did not seem to be much overlap. Surely they would start spending more time at the main house soon.

Unless they were avoiding him.

A knock on the door gave him just the distraction he needed from that unpleasant thought.

"Come in," he called, slipping the photo into his desk drawer with the others.

Jasper entered, giving him a little nod, and looking happy, but serious.

"Carlisle," he said in greeting.

"Jasper, please sit down," Carlisle said, somewhat guilty for the lust he was throwing off in numerous directions just moments before. Had Jasper noticed? He was smirking.

"I was hoping I could talk to you about these… new dynamics."

Carlisle looked at him warily. "What about them?"

Jasper sat back in the chair, exuding ease. "Well, it seems that you four might have an easier time exploring your new relationships if the house weren't quite so crowded."

Carlisle was crestfallen. "I never meant for this to drive a wedge between—"

"— and it hasn't," Jasper reassured. "It's been a long time coming, as far as I'm concerned." He gave Carlisle a warm smile. "We were all planning move to British Columbia in three months, Alice and I were just thinking that perhaps we'd go up early, take Rose and Emmett with us, and we could spend the time building some cottages on the outskirts of the property so you four could share the main house once you follow. And you'd have some time here to do what you wanted without worrying about making us uncomfortable."

"Like movie night," Carlisle said, knowing that if the other two couples hadn't been in the room, the evening would have ended differently.

"Exactly," he said grinning. "And Carlisle, this isn't me running off with half your coven. I'm just taking care of them while you—"

"I understand, Jasper. I appreciate what you're offering." He sighed, knowing he would miss the others, but knowing that this was likely for the best.

"Alice says this will be the easiest transition. Think of it as a honeymoon," he said, standing.

Carlisle was already feeling a mixture of resignation and excitement. Resigned that he'd be separated by some of his dear family, something he never wanted. But on the other hand, a few months to a vampire was nothing. As long as they all knew it was temporary, and the bonds between them were still strong, they would endure. And he had to admit that he was excited by the prospect of having relative privacy to explore the possibilities between Edward and Bella, Esme and himself. That was a very alluring thought…

"We want the van!" Emmett's voice came from the first floor.

Carlisle burst out laughing, and Jasper did the same. And Carlisle realized that four of them, Jasper, Alice, Rosalie and Emmett were a bit like _his _four. And he already thought of Edward and Bella as his, almost as much as Esme. He wanted time with his four, but Jasper… Jasper might be looking forward to time with his own four as well.

There was a glimmer in Jasper's eye, and Carlisle laughed again. "When do you leave?"

"In the morning, if you approve. Don't worry, Carlisle. I'll take good care of them, and we'll be waiting when you're ready."

Carlisle stood and gave him a hug. "I'm not worried. Take whatever land you want for the cottages. We'll follow when my contract's up at the hospital."

Jasper squeezed his shoulders. "I'm still your second," he said. "We'll be waiting for you."

He left the office, and Carlisle's mind raced with this new information. But it was nothing he could act on. He realized that he needed to hunt before his next shift at the hospital, and the house was suddenly a flurry of packing and boxes and discussions on what to bring and what to leave for later. He escaped to the relative peace of the woods.

(~~()~~)

He wasn't late. He was never late leaving the hospital these days. Carlisle balanced his briefcase and a box of medical journals in one hand as he pushed the hospital door open. He walked out to the parking lot under the streetlamp where he always parked, to find his Mercedes waiting for him. It was Friday evening, and he was looking forward to a day off.

He started his drive home leisurely, not really knowing what to expect. Jasper would be gone by now, and the freedom that allowed was at once exhilarating and nerve-wracking. Anticipation fluttered in his stomach as he turned onto the private drive. And then he heard it: the opening measures of Scarlatti. His favorite. Edward was playing him home.

He climbed the stairs, remembering so many times in those first years when Edward welcomed him home with his piano and a favorite melody. Opening the door, Carlisle stopped and watched Edward's back as he played. Carlisle would be able to read the emotion of the music on the muscles of Edward's back and arms, even if he couldn't hear it. Edward was such an expressive player; his whole body reflected the music. He was all grace and taut, flowing muscles and gentle hesitations. He was beautiful.

"Welcome home, Carlisle."

Carlisle grinned at being caught admiring. "Thank you," he said, putting down his briefcase and box. "Where is everyone?"

Edward answered as he continued playing. "Jasper and the others left this morning. He called about an hour ago to say they'd already done a review of the property, and had chosen locations for the cottages."

"Excellent," Carlisle said as he separated his mail from the rest of the family's. "And the girls?"

"Conspiring. Or shopping… pretty much the same these days.

Carlisle could hear the smirk in Edward's voice. He was about to ask for details when he saw Edward slide to the left, inviting Carlisle to sit with him, as he had so often before. Carlisle removed his jacket and approached the piano, rolling his sleeves up, like Edward's were. In the past, in the twenties, he would have sat beside Edward, knees tucked under the piano keys, and watch Edward's hands, never daring to look up into his face. Never daring to think of how the sight of Edward's bare forearms affected him, hardly daring to breathe as he watched the boy's fingers dance. But this was not 1920. Last weekend had taught him what Edward meant to him. It had taught him to be bold.

He straddled the piano bench, facing Edward. From this position, he was able to admire everything from Edward's swift fingers to his muscled arms, expressive jaw, and furious hair. Carlisle just watched, appreciating the music and the physicality of Edward's playing. It was such a relief and joy to watch unabashed, hiding none of his reactions.

Edward glanced sideways at him as he played. "Enjoying the view, old man?"

"As a matter of fact, I am," Carlisle said, chuckling. But then humor fell away as he leaned forward and Edward's breath hitched. "I wanted to watch you like this years ago… decades ago," he whispered softly into Edward's ear, watching the reaction as his breath tickled the young man's neck. "Seeing you like this…it's so much a part of who you are. Your passion is so much at the surface. It's wondrous, Edward, humbling. And very…" Carlisle took a deep breath of Edward's warm, intoxicating scent. "Very stimulating."

Carlisle's hand covered Edward's knee, and Carlisle watched as Edward's eyes fell closed and his fingers stumbled. He leaned in closer and whispered into Edward's ear, "Keep playing."

Edward's fingers danced across the keys, and Carlisle's ran along the inside of Edward's knee, causing them both to shiver. Carlisle wrapped his left hand around Edward's hip, and he pulled himself flush against Edward's side, where there'd be no mistaking exactly how affected Carlisle was. Hooking his fingers under Edward's knee, he pulled it up over his own thigh, spreading Edward's legs.

"Fuck, Carlisle," Edward whispered, his fingers faltering for a second and then continuing. He cleared his throat. "I'm going to need that foot for the pedals in a minute."

"Fuck the pedals," Carlisle whispered, dragging fingers up the inside of Edward's thigh, teasing, getting closer and closer to the strain in his pants. "That crescendo has always seemed a bit heavy handed. Just ignore it."

Edward groaned as Carlisle lightly traced his fingers along Edward's zipper, caressing his arousal. "Fuck, I can't do this," Edward whispered, and Carlisle froze. " I can't play Scarlatti while you're touching me. It's too structured, and I'm… I'm…"

Carlisle leaned in and kissed his shoulder, letting out a soft chuckle. "Play whatever you want. Play one of your passionate Russians." Immediately Rachmaninoff was echoing through the room, and Carlisle pressed his entire palm onto Edward's erection. It felt amazing. It felt like should have happened ages ago, and Carlisle enjoyed the pleasure of finally acting on a desire he had harbored for as long as he could remember. Edward bucked into his hand, and Carlisle wanted more. He fingered the button on Edward's pants, unfastening it slowly as Edward threw his head back and concentrated on playing. Carlisle slowly pulled down the zipper, feeling each slight tug as the teeth let loose, and in moments, he was reaching inside Edward's clothing, touching bare, warm, smooth skin, freeing Edward's hard length. Carlisle looked at it for just a moment, overwhelmed with joy at the sight of it in his palm, with the knowledge that this was no longer forbidden; it was desired by both of them. He wrapped his fingers around it stroked gently. A string of whispered expletives fell from Edward's lips as he fought to keep his hips still and his fingers in motion.

Carlisle leaned in to kiss his shoulder again. _I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that._

"Carlisle," Edward groaned, his voice thick and needy. The sound went straight to Carlisle cock. It was so delicious to see him this way—barely hanging on, barely able to concentrate for the force of his desire. Barely able to sit and play as his passion for music melded into another more carnal passion. Carlisle quickly licked his palm and rejoiced as Edward's cock slid smoothly in his hand. Edward's groans were growing louder, mingling with the music that was moving from Rachmaninoff to Prokofiev to Chopin. Stumbling, and then resuming when he heard Carlisle's mental, _Keep playing._ Every emotion Edward felt as he moved toward climax was reflected in the music, and Carlisle kept his strokes even, matching the tempo of the music, knowing that Edward was showing him what he needed through the notes.

He was so beautiful like this. Carlisle hoped he was watching himself through the older man's mind. Hoped he could see himself writhing and arching, bucking into Carlisle's hand as his own hands continued to pour passion into the instrument. His intensity had always been Carlisle's undoing. It had always stripped at his own control, made him want things he thought he shouldn't want. Carlisle moved his left hand from where it gripped Edward's far hip and slid it under the waistband at the small of his back, slipping a finger past the cleft at the top of his ass. Edward swore again and the music became almost frantic improvisation as he rocked his pelvis between Carlisle's two hands, drawing Carlisle's finger down closer to his opening as the other hand pumped his cock. Carlisle could tell he was close, straining. His body was moving in raw and feral waves as his hands continued their relatively civilized journey across the keys. The dichotomy was so quintessentially _Edward,_ it made Carlisle groan with desire, and rock his own pelvis against Edward's hip. Edward's passion had always drawn out Carlisle's own, but this…this was different. Seeing him like this made Carlisle want to possess him completely. He wanted to plunge into Edward everywhere. He felt his finger graze Edward's opening, and that was it. He leaned forward and bit Edward's shoulder and pressed his finger inside.

Dissonant chords surged to crescendo as Edward cried out, and Carlisle felt warm venom gush across his hand. The chords died slowly, shimmering on the air, until finally even their echoes were gone, and the only sound was Edward's harsh breathing as he slumped forward slightly.

"Good God, Carlisle, that was…"

Carlisle wrapped his left arm around Edward, pulling the boy toward his chest and supporting him as he recovered. He raised his right hand to his mouth and licked it clean, closing his eyes and groaning as he savored Edward's flavor. When his eyes opened again, Edward's intense black gaze was upon him, and then Edward was upon him, straddling the bench facing him, mouth demanding, fingers tearing at his clothes. In a moment they were both naked, standing, and Edward was turning away from him, putting his hand on the piano as he leaned forward, offering himself. And God, he was beautiful. Carlisle dragged his fingers down Edward's back, appreciating the muscles of his shoulders and his slim waist and the dimples above his ass. Carlisle let his hands explore Edward's entire back, until the boy was whimpering with need.

"Carlisle, now."

"Patience, Edward." Carlisle dragged his fingers from Edward's shoulders to the curve of his ass, delighting in the way that Edward arched into his touch. "I have no intention of rushing. And I won't hurt you. You need to be prepared. I'll run upstairs and get some lubricant—"

"No," Edward interrupted, grabbing at Carlisle's hand. "Don't go. Venom will work. I want your venom."

Carlisle wet his finger and dragged it down Edward's spine, and then wet it again and slipped it into Edward's opening as his other hand continued to explore and caress. Edward rocked back, pushing himself onto Carlisle's hand. More venom and more fingers found Edward writhing and Carlisle wrapped around him, kissing his shoulders, his other arm wrapped around his chest.

"Carlisle, I need you," Edward finally gasped.

_Not like this._ Carlisle could hardly bear to let go of Edward, feeling his back pressed against his own chest. He could hardly stop kissing his back and shoulders. Could hardly stop running his fingers across Edward's chest. But he knew when he entered Edward, he wanted to see his eyes. And he was dry. He needed to slick himself. He refused to hurt the boy, prepared as he was.

Edward groaned and spun around, quickly kneeling and taking Carlisle's length deep into his mouth.

"Fuck. Oh God, Edward, that feels amazing." Carlisle's head dropped back as he savored the feeling of Edward's lips sliding over his cock, Edward's tongue pressing and swirling, Edward's teeth grazing… Sightlessly, Carlisle reached down to still him. "No, Edward. I don't want to come like this." Carlisle looked down at Edward's lithe, muscular form and wild hair; he looked every bit the Fey creature he'd imagined the boy to be when they first met.

"Just, getting you wet, Carlisle," Edward said, sliding off his cock and looking up through his lashes. "One of the Fey?"

"Oh, God, you have no idea," Carlisle said, stroking his cheekbones. He was so beautiful. Otherworldly and beautiful. Edward had been his passion for so long. And he was ready. He needed this. They both did.

He helped Edward to his feet, and took his hands, and walked him backward toward the piano.

_I want you here. Where your passion lies._

"Yes," Edward moaned.

He placed Edwards hands on the piano, on either side of the music stand.

_Support your weight._

"What?"

Carlisle swung Edward's legs up and apart, and Edward scrambled to shift his grip and support the weight of his upper body as Carlisle supported the lower. Carlisle entered Edward, whose body was essentially suspended above the piano keys. He went slowly, delighting in the squeeze of hot, tight flesh the perfect view of Edward: his hard twitching cock, his tight stomach and paned chest, his shoulders, bunching with the effort of holding himself steady above the piano when he clearly wanted to thrash and writhe. His head thrown back in bliss. Carlisle slid forward and then he was in, as far into Edward as he could go. He savored the heat and tension. They were both taut as piano stings, perfectly still as Edward adjusted to the intrusion. And then Edward rolled his hips, and Carlisle groaned, and they began moving together, first tentatively and then faster, until Carlisle was driving into him in a rough, desperate tempo. Everything was tight and warm and slick and _Edward_, and Carlisle's mind was filled joy and pleasure and the love he'd harbored for nearly a century. He showed Edward image after image of his desire. He looked at Edward's cock and imagined taking it into his mouth — something physically impossible at the moment, but Edward's gift made even imagining it an erotic stimulus. Edward groaned and then leaned forward, eyes fixed on Carlisle's, and Carlisle claimed him. Claimed his mouth, his eyes, his body, his soul. And Edward gave freely, meeting Carlisle's every thrust, every gaze, every heated kiss, until together they came, and collapsed, discordant chords reverberating through the air again as they knocked the keys on their way down. Spent and gasping, they clung to each other on the floor in front of the piano, stroking each other, whispering assurances. They ended with Carlisle above Edward, whose arms were wrapped so tightly around Carlisle's shoulders that it almost hurt, but felt reassuring, and they waited for their breathing to ease.

Finally Edward's grip loosened, and Carlisle's felt the boy's fingers in his hair.

_I love you._

"I know," Edward answered, squeezing him again. "I love you, too. It feels so much better getting to show it."

_Yes. So much better. Thank you._

Edward laughed, and Carlisle felt it reverberate through his cheek. "No need to thank me for that, Carlisle. That was perfect."

Carlisle sighed and reached his hand up to coil it into Edward's hair. _Yes, it was._

They lay together another few minutes, each one's thoughts wrapped in the other, when Carlisle wondered when the girls would be home.

"They arrived a while ago," Edward said.

"What?" Carlisle stiffened, nearly pulling away, but Edward held him fast.

"They didn't want to interrupt. It didn't stop them from watching through the window, though."

Carlisle's eyes widened in surprise. "Are they upset?" Carlisle knew they had all agreed to this, but accepting the abstract idea of it was very different from watching your mates screw each other on a musical instrument.

"No," Edward chuckled. "That's not the word I'd use to describe their thoughts. Agitated, maybe. Or aroused. They've gone to the creek to…assist each other."

_Sweet mother of God._ Carlisle closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the image of Esme and Bella together…

"Shall we go watch? Turn about is fair play, after all." Edward kissed the top of Carlisle's head, seemingly fully recovered. Carlisle lifted himself off the boy, and noticed the mischief in his eyes.

"We haven't missed it?" he asked, tentative eagerness filtering into his tone, though he admitted to himself they probably wanted privacy.

"Not if we hurry," Edward answered. "I don't think we'll have time to dress, though."

"Oh, that is a shame," Carlisle said with mock seriousness. He wondered if the girls would welcome the intrusion.

"Yes," Edward whispered. "But we have to go now, Carlisle, or we may as well wait for them here."

Carlisle leaned in and gave Edward one final kiss, grateful for the time they'd had alone together, but ready to welcome Esme and Bella.

"Then by all means, let's go find the girls."

* * *

><p><em>AN. Well, StormDragonfly now tells me I have to write at least one more chapter; I can't tease like that and then never follow through. I suppose if I must…<em>


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